


your heart's a mess (you won't admit to it)

by toucanoe



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/F, Temporary Character Death, based on Noelle's tweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22516078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toucanoe/pseuds/toucanoe
Summary: You grew up with whispers of your name and the promise you’d bring, scarlet and gold hangings adorning every wall of your home. You remember gazing into the open maw of the lion, its unheard roar inspiring a sense of belonging within you.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 76
Kudos: 345





	1. year 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:
> 
> This is largely based off of Noelle Stevenson's tweet in which she describes Catra and Adora's Hogwarts houses. This will be covering the 7 years at Hogwarts so I'm expecting this to be between 7-8 chapters long. Have a great day! :)
> 
> Title is from Heart's A Mess by Gotye. 
> 
> Link to tweet: https://twitter.com/Gingerhazing/status/1204485289298644992?s=20

You get your letter in August, the words HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT & WIZARDRY emblazoned across the top. 

It doesn’t come as a surprise to you. You’ve been expecting your acceptance letter since you’ve been old enough to walk. Still, your parents act like it’s the first time they’ve seen one and throw a party in celebration like they did for your brother before. Your relatives congratulate you and shove gifts into your hands, smiling tightly as they do so. Your parent’s union is still a sore spot within the family and you’re reminded of it every time they look at you. 

Your brother tussles your hair, says he can’t wait to see you join him at the Gryffindor table during the sorting ceremony. He’s been telling you all sorts of stories ever since he was accepted four years ago and you can’t wait to make some of your own. 

At the train station, your parents don’t cry and neither do you. You’ll miss them, but you know you’ll see them again during the summer. You watch the grey smoke swallow them up from the train window and try not to think too much about home. 

You’re eating a pumpkin pastie when she runs into the cabin, slamming the sliding door shut behind her. 

She doesn’t notice you at first, squeezing her eyes shut and leaning back in her seat. Her nose twitches and she finally cracks one eye open to look at you, a shocking blue that stands out against her tan skin, a cyan fire threatening to swallow you whole. The other is a bright yellow that reminds you of summer sunsets and racing your brother on your bike. Everything about her screams wild, unbridled energy and you want to drink up every drop of it. 

She’s not even wearing the plain black robes the first years are given; a moth-eaten sweater slides off her right shoulder and her faded jeans are so loose she’s synched them tightly with a belt at the waist to keep them from falling down. She gives you a weird look, holds her bag tightly against her chest as if you’re going to try to steal it from her. 

You realize with horror your mouth is still stuffed full of pumpkin pastie and you swallow it harshly, wincing as it goes down. 

“I’m Adora,” you say, wiping the crumbs off your hands and extending one towards her. 

She doesn’t make any move to shake your hand. She doesn’t look like she intends to either. 

“Catra.”

You retract your hand and flash her a polite smile. “Where are you fro―”

“Look,” she cuts you off, her tone cold and biting, “I’m not a nice person and I’m not your friend either. Find someone else to talk to.” She wordlessly pulls a pair of worn headphones from her bag and puts them over her ears, effectively shutting you out. 

Just as you think you’re going to be sitting in awkward silence for the rest of the ride, a girl with short pink hair opens the door to the booth and plops down next to you. She turns to you, something in her hair catching the light and drawing your eye to her. 

“Hi!” she chirps, dropping her bags unceremoniously onto the floor in front of Catra, who shoots her an offending glare. She ignores her and sticks her hand out to you. “I’m Glimmer, are you a first year?” 

“Adora,” you reply, shaking her outstretched hand, “and yes, I am.” 

She sighs in relief. “My friend Bow was supposed to meet me at the train station, but I think he’s running late. I thought I was going to end up sitting with a bunch of upperclassmen―”

She’s cut off from her next words when Catra lets out an enormous yawn, displaying a set of sharp canines. She grins at the bewildered look on Glimmer’s face and kicks her feet up onto the seat. You find yourself staring at her mouth and wondering how her teeth can be that sharp.

You swallow hard once you notice Catra returning your stare with piercing eyes, like she’s opening you up and pulling you apart. The moment is broken when she drags her eyes away from you back towards the blur of countryside outside the window. 

After a beat of silence, Glimmer leans towards you and whispers, “What’s with her?”

Catra doesn’t seem to have heard Glimmer, her eyes distant and fixed on the scenery passing by as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. You feel a rush to defend Catra, even though you’ve barely known her for less than a minute and she’s been anything but nice to you.

“She just―” you start, trying to think of any way to describe the girl sitting across from you. You think Catra’s misunderstood. She was clearly running away from something earlier and you can only guess whether it’s someone from her past or herself. Her clothes and the little bag she’s carrying speak a thousand words. 

“She keeps to herself,” you finish lamely, staring down at your lap. 

To your relief, Glimmer doesn’t push the subject and opens her bag to rummage through her belongings. She talks your ear off the rest of the ride and before long, the train pulls up to a tiny dark platform you learn is Hogsmeade station.

A dark boy with a wide smile runs past you to hug Glimmer as soon as you get off the train and introduces himself to you as Bow. He looks familiar and you think you might have seen him at an event your family attended some time ago. As he’s telling the story of how he almost missed the Hogwarts Express because of his parents, you notice Catra start to make her way to the docks alone. You'd been so caught up in Bow's story that you hadn't even heard her leave. You catch up with her before she can slink away, much to her chagrin. She’s in a sour mood the entirety of the trip to the lake’s shore, only replying in short answers to your questions and never revealing too much about herself. 

As you wait your turn to board, you notice Catra staring out into the distance, the same faraway look on her face she had on the train. You nudge her softly with your elbow. “Nice view, right?” At the puzzled look she gives you, you nod your head towards Hogwarts castle. “It’s bigger than I imagined.” 

She laughs and you’re taken aback by how light and melodious it sounds. “How big did you think it was going to be?” 

“I don’t know. Definitely a lot smaller than that.”

“Sounds like you have low expectations,” she teases, brushing past you to board the boat. 

You tell yourself that the sudden blush on your cheeks is from the wind whipping at your face. 

You climb onto the small wooden boat with shaky legs―you’ve never been a fan of sailing―while the others watch the glowing lights of Hogwarts in the distance. 

“So,” Glimmer says excitedly as the boat rocks gently against the waves, “what house do you think you’ll be put into?”

“Gryffindor,” you answer, the word as familiar on your tongue as your name. 

You feel a pair of mismatched eyes studying you intently. 

“What makes you think that?” Catra suddenly asks, her fingers drumming against the wood of the boat.

You shrug, folding your robes tighter around yourself against a sudden burst of wind. “I don’t know, just a feeling I guess. My family has always been Gryffindor and my brother, Adam, says―”

“Wait a minute,” Glimmer cuts you off, staring at you hard. “What did you say your last name was again?”

You gnaw at your lip, cursing yourself for letting your brother’s name slip. Of course they would know his name when it’s been written on the front page of the Daily Prophet and almost every other wizarding newspaper. The truth is, you’ve never mentioned it to any of them. The name is a burden, a heavy reminder of who you’re supposed to be. 

You exhale slowly and finally say, “Grayskull.”

The silence is heavy and you debate on whether or not you should throw yourself overboard to end your misery.

“By Merlin, it’s _her_ ,” Bow whispers fiercely to Glimmer, his eyes glued to you as if you’ll disappear right in front of him. 

“I know that!” Glimmer says, rolling her eyes. “I just can’t believe we didn’t notice it right away.” 

You laugh nervously. “Honestly, I’d prefer it if people didn’t notice.” 

Catra tilts her head, her feline eyes watching you curiously. She still looks confused by what just happened, like you’re supposed to be some celebrity she should know about or that you've said some joke that’s blown over her head. Then it hits you and your face breaks into a slow smile because she doesn’t have the slightest idea who you are.

“Anyways,” you say quickly, hoping to change the subject, “what do you think your house will be?”

Bow taps a finger to his lips. “Probably Hufflepuff. It just feels like the closest match.”

“Ravenclaw,” Glimmer says, smoothing out a wrinkle in her robe, “but I wouldn’t be surprised if I got Gryffindor.” 

You turn towards Catra, smiling softly. “What about you?”

She folds her arms across her chest, narrowing her eyes. “Slytherin.” 

A spark of admiration flares inside you at the look of determination in her eyes. Slytherin has a bad reputation even though you know plenty who are good people, like the girlfriend your brother had his third year, who always smiled and snuck you sweets when your parents weren’t looking. Few people want to be Slytherin and the fact that Catra says she’s going to be one makes you wonder if it’s what she really wants or if she’s been born into it like you. 

The ride to Hogwarts is relatively silent save for the sound of the water sloshing against the boat. 

When you enter the Great Hall, you notice your brother sitting at the Gryffindor table, an empty seat next to him saved for you. He grins and gives you a thumbs up when McGonagall calls your name from the list. A number of heads turn in your direction at the sound of your name and you hold your head high as you walk to the front of the room.

As soon as McGonagall puts the Sorting Hat on your head, it chuckles to itself. “Another Grayskull, I see!” 

You feel its magic at work, like fingers softly caressing your brain and probing into your deepest memories. It’s just on the edge of being uncomfortable. 

Minutes tick by and you frown, you're about to ask why its taking so long, but then it says, “What’s this? There is something different about you.” 

_No,_ you think, _my heart is as brave as the rest of them._

“There is bravery, yes,” the Hat agrees, “but I see a greater potential for you. Somewhere that will lead you on the path to greatness.” 

Just as you’re about to tell the Hat to put you in Gryffindor like all the rest of the Grayskull witches and wizards, it suddenly shouts, “SLYTHERIN!” 

You don’t know if anyone claps or cheers, the only thing you hear is the frantic sound of your heart beating in your ears. You’ve never felt this terrified before. You half expect Adam to stand up from his table and laugh, say it was all a joke, or for the Sorting Hat to call Gryffindor instead, but your brother doesn’t move from his seat and the Hat doesn’t call you back either. McGonagall takes the Hat from your head with a curious look in her eyes and you barely feel your legs moving as you walk over to the Slytherin table. Someone sitting next to you congratulates you and claps you on the shoulder, but you say nothing and you don’t eat anything, sloshing the drink in your glass mindlessly as you stare into space. 

Bow is the next to be called to the Sorting Hat and it places him in Hufflepuff just as he had guessed. He’s beaming as he goes to sit at their table and you can tell he’s genuinely happy to be in that house. 

Glimmer comes after him and she’s placed in Slytherin, her face twisting into shock before she tries to protest to McGonagall, who shoos her away with a stern look and pursed lips. 

Catra is the last to be sorted and you’re surprised when McGonagall calls only her first name off the list. You brush it off as some sort of mistake and watch as Catra sits on the stool, the Hat’s wide brim hiding her eyes and the bouncing of her leg the only sign she’s nervous. 

The Hat must be playing some cruel trick on everyone because it yells Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin. 

Catra is completely stunned as she moves towards the Hufflepuff table, every movement jerky and stiff. To make matters worse, she sits next to a kid named Kyle―who accidentally spills his drink on her lap as soon as she sits down. 

You think she would have strangled him if it weren’t for the girl sitting beside her. 

///

You’re walking to your house quarters after the ceremony when you notice Glimmer talking to the headmistress in the hall. 

“Professor McGonagall, this must be some mistake! There’s no way I’m a Slytherin!” Glimmer argues, stomping her foot against the ground. 

Fragments of McGonagall’s voice echo in the hall, something that sounds like _I knew your father_ and _you must understand, child._ You’re straining to hear their hushed whispers without being caught eavesdropping when something brushes against your shoulder and you turn to come face-to-face with Catra, who seems to have suddenly appeared out of nowhere. You jerk back, slamming your head against the concrete pillar behind you. 

“Hey!” you groan, rubbing the aching spot on the back of your head. “Warn a girl!” 

She gives you an amused grin and turns to watch the scene unfolding in front of her. Glimmer is on the verge of tears and the headmistress tries to reassure her with soft words to no avail.

“She knows she can’t get her to change her house, right?” Catra finally says, folding her arms across her chest. “I may not like mine either, but it’s practically set in stone now.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try.” Your voice comes out hoarse and you clear your throat in an attempt to pretend like you’re unbothered by it all. 

Of course, you had to be stuck with the most observant witch you’ve met so far. She eyes you carefully. “You okay? You look like you’re still in shock.”

You shoot her what you hope is a convincing smile. “Just a bit frazzled.”

“Tell me about it,” she says. 

You search her face for any signs of mockery, but her eyes are open and honest and her voice is devoid of any of its usual sarcasm. 

You sigh. “No one in my family has ever been anything but a Gryffindor. What if they hate me for it?” You desperately try to ignore the stinging of tears at the back of your eyes.

“Hey,” Catra says gently, placing a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay to be scared. I doubt your family will hate you. If they love you, they’ll understand.” 

You let out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” you pause, grinning at her. “I thought you said you weren’t a nice person?” 

She rolls her eyes and pushes you away roughly. “Whatever. It doesn’t mean I like you.” 

The fact that she’s struggling to hide her smile tells you all you need to know. 

///

You learn she’s never flown in broom flight class. 

Adam taught you to fly when your parents gave him a Nimbus 2000 his second year at Hogwarts and for that you are extremely grateful. The others who have never touched a broomstick in their life are having difficulty getting the hang of it. 

You try your best not to laugh at Catra struggling to make her broom fly. When Madam Hooch isn’t looking, you make your way over to her and give her a few pointers. She growls at you but she doesn’t fall off her broom and the grin she sends you makes your stomach flutter. In return, she teaches you how to walk without making a sound. 

You learn she’s terrified of mice in Transfiguration. 

The professor explains the spell and you turn the white mouse sitting on your desk into a snuff box easily. Catra, on the other hand, screams as soon as the professor puts the mouse down in front of her. After she composes herself thanks to some gentle words from her Hufflepuff peers, she mutters the spell shakily. Her snuff box ends up with whiskers on it and you can’t help but tease her about it for the next few weeks. 

One day, she shows up to Potions smelling like something sour. You try to bring it up as nicely as you can, but the pointed glare she sends you makes you shrink back into your seat. As soon as class ends, she slides her book off her desk into her bag and makes a brisk exit. It takes some time, but you find her hiding in one of the corridors, sitting against the wall with her head on her knees.

“So,” you say, settling down next to her, “wanna tell me what happened?”

She looks at you, her mouth set in a thin line. “Promise me you won’t laugh.”

You cross an X over your heart. “I promise.”

“To get into the Hufflepuff house, you have to tap one of the barrels,” she sighs, twirling a piece of her hair absentmindedly between her thumb and forefinger. She suddenly drops her hand and snarls. “Kyle ran into me while I was doing it and messed everything up!”

You frown. “That still doesn’t explain why you smell like that.”

“If you do it wrong,” she bites out, “you get soaked in vinegar.”

“Well,” you say, grinning, “remind me never to break into the Hufflepuff house.”

Catra glares at you. “You promised you wouldn’t laugh.”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“How?”

“You’re smiling.”

“So are you!”

“Shut up,” she growls, shoving your shoulder.

You end up shoving her back and she grapples with you. It’s entirely harmless, reminding you of the times you used to play fight with your brother. It ends with you as the winner and the both of you laughing so hard your sides ache, but then you hear footsteps steadily approaching and it occurs to you that you’re currently skipping class. You get up onto your feet and start running as fast as you can, Catra laughing in your ear beside you.

  
  



	2. year 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Look up what a barn owl sounds like and prepare to be disturbed. Anyways, I had a lot of fun writing this one! 
> 
> Let me know what you think! :)

You spend the summer at home with your family. The parties are boring and you get tired of third-wheeling with your brother. Your fingers itch for your wand and you long for the familiar thrum of magic underneath your skin. 

Unfortunately for you, no school means no magic and your parents have strictly prohibited it in the household, holding firmly to their belief that it should not be used for menial everyday tasks.

You write to your friends about your summer and how Adam jumped off the roof and used magic to break his fall. Catra sends you letters every Friday and they arrive in an unusual manner. Her barn owl lets out a long harsh scream when he sees you behind your bedroom window. You jump every time he does it and every time you swear you see his dark eyes dancing with mirth.

Today is no different and he beats his wings happily once you slide open the window. 

“Hey there, Soren,” you murmur, gently taking the rolling up parchment from between his razor-sharp talons. He peeks his heart-shaped face into your room and chirps softly when he notices the sooty brown figure in its cage.

Your own owl, Swift Wind, rotates his head from within his cage and blinks slowly at the other owl, seemingly annoyed at him for disturbing his sleep.

“He’s just saying ‘hello,’ Swifty,” you chide. “Maybe you wouldn't be so grumpy if you ate your dinner.”

You unlock his cage, grabbing the untouched rodent by the tail and throwing it out the window past Soren, who screeches once before he takes off after his meal. 

You close your window with a soft click and untie the knot around Catra’s letter. Her handwriting is short and jagged, and she always signs the bottom of the letter beside her name with a doodle of herself that you can’t help but admire. You don’t even realize you’re smiling until you hear your bedroom door creak open and Adam walks in.

“What’re you smiling about?” he asks, his eyes suspicious. 

You shake your head. “Nothing.”

He points to the letter you’re holding. “Who’s that from?”

“No one,” you lie, hiding the note behind your back. 

Adam has absolutely no sense of privacy and you really wish you had remembered to lock the door before opening the letter. The glint in his dark eyes is your only warning before he points his wand towards you.

“Accio letter!” 

You feel the thin paper disappear from between your fingers and the letter you were holding just moments earlier suddenly appears in your brother’s hands. 

“Hey!” you protest, jumping to your feet and lunging at him.

“‘Catra’,” he reads aloud, dodging your poor swing and grinning at you. “So this is who my little sister’s got a crush on?”

“I don’t have a crush on her,” you growl, your face burning red hot. You try to grab the letter and he lifts it high above his head. 

“You do!” he laughs, holding you back with one arm. You jump and miss, and his eyes shine mischievously. “Is she anything like Huntara?”

With a well timed burst of strength, you finally manage to tackle your brother to the ground, wrestling Catra’s letter out of his grip. The paper is somewhat crumpled, but otherwise it’s mostly undamaged. 

“Good one,” Adam chuckles and gets off the floor, tucking his discarded wand into his pocket. 

“That wasn’t funny,” you say seriously, frowning. 

“Sorry,” he says, smiling apologetically, “I shouldn’t have brought up your childhood crush.” You glare at him and he adds, “Okay, fine. I shouldn’t have stolen your letter either.”

After a moment of hesitation, you sigh, flopping onto your bed with a thump. “I forgive you.” 

“Thanks, Adora.” 

Adam hugs you and you don’t even have time to cherish this rare loving moment between two siblings before he plants a big, disgusting wet kiss onto your cheek. 

“Ew! Get off me, you idiot!” you screech, delivering a sharp kick to his stomach and relishing in the groan he makes when your foot finds its mark. 

You use the collar of your t-shirt to wipe his spit off your face. You’re really going to need to scrub your face with soap. 

“By the way,” Adam says weakly, still clutching his middle, “I actually came here to tell you dinner’s ready.” 

“I’ll be there in a few.” You wave him off and drag your attention back to Catra’s letter. 

“One more question.” 

You look up, giving him an irritated look. Adam grins at you from the doorway. 

“Is she as jacked as Huntara?”

He barely has time to dodge the book you hurl at his head, running gleefully down the hall.

You roll over onto your side to look at Swift Wind, his large yellow eyes wide open and his ear tufts perked upright. 

He hoots softly, as if he’s chastising you, and you roll your eyes. “He started it.”

///

To say you’re excited to see your friends would be an understatement. You’ve been counting down the days when you would be able to see them again.

Bow and Glimmer throw their arms around you when they see you at the train station. You return their hugs with one of your own, smiling and laughing at their jokes. 

“Come on, the train’s leaving soon,” Glimmer sing-songs, dragging her bags behind her.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” you call out to her back. 

You check your watch again and sigh. It doesn’t look like Catra’s coming any time soon and for all you know, she could be sitting on the train already. 

“Hey, Adora.”

You freeze in your tracks and turn towards the sound of her voice. Her hair’s grown a couple inches past her shoulders and her skin’s a few shades darker from the summer sun. Your heart stops when you notice the black eye she’s sporting, the bruise spreading to a deep purple underneath her eye. 

“What happened to―” you start, motioning to her face. 

“This?” She points to her eye and gives you a toothy grin. “It’s nothing. You should see the other guy.”

You frown and her smile falters. 

“Honestly, Adora, don’t worry about it―”

You embrace her and she stiffens, her arms frozen at her sides. She smells like balsam fir and the mahogany of a broomstick. You remember it from the times she’d walk with you in the halls last year and the lingering scent she’d leave behind on her letters. 

“I missed you,” you sigh, your nose brushing against her ear. 

You expect her to push you away, ask you what’s wrong with you, but instead, she returns your hug, her arms winding around you. 

After a long moment, she leans away from you, her eyes soft and you find yourself absolutely transfixed by her. She can’t seem to look away from you either and you’re so close you can count the new freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. 

The blare of the train whistle makes you both jump away from each other and you turn away from her to pick up your bags, hiding your red face. 

“We should go,” you say, clearing your throat awkwardly. 

Catra looks anywhere but you as she fidgets with the strap of her bag. “Yeah.”

The embarrassment slowly ebbs away during the ride to Hogwarts and you end up joking around with Catra like you always have. Since you’re upperclassmen now, you get to ride the carriages to the school instead of the boats. You could not be more relieved. 

Soren screeches the entire train ride no matter how much food Catra tempts him with to shut up. Glimmer and Bow are quick to leave once you get off the train, mumbling something about how they need to get to the carriages. You’re left alone with Catra, who looks like she’s ready to kill her owl, damn the consequences. To make matters worse, the noises he’s making have attracted the stares of nearby students.

“Soren!” Catra whispers fiercely, rattling his cage. “Be quiet!”

It’s silent for only a moment before he lets out another scream, snapping his beak together. 

“Oh, come on!” she groans. “Can’t you wait until we get there?”

He hisses in reply and you hold back your laughter at the murderous look on Catra’s face. Swift Wind lets out an impatient hoot when he sees the familiar lights of the castle.

“We’re almost there,” you reassure him, following Catra’s simmering figure down the cobblestone path. 

You notice some carriages in the distance and start to walk faster to keep up with her. 

“Adora! Wait up!” a familiar voice calls from behind you.

_Oh no,_ you think, _not him._

Your brother runs down the path towards the two of you, his smile stretched so wide his face looks like it’s about to crack. As if by his presence alone, Soren stops screaming and watches him with interest. Catra stares at her owl, dumbfounded.

“I thought you’d be at Hogwarts by now,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know, since you’re prefect and all.”

“Being prefect doesn’t mean I have to be the first to everything,” he argues, brushing the hair out of his eyes flippantly.

“Does it mean you have to be so annoying?” you fire back. 

“You wound me.” Adam pretends to swoon and you groan at his dramatics. He seems to finally notice Catra standing beside you in awkward silence and smiles at her. “Hello, my name’s Adam. And you are?” 

She’s observing him, and you see her noticing all of the things that make you siblings. You both have the same crooked smile, the same blonde hair. “Catra.” 

His eyes flit between the two of you and you can practically see the lightbulb spark above his head once he hears her name.

“Catra,” he says, grinning, “Adora’s told me _so much_ about you―”

“Don’t you have a carriage to catch?” you interrupt, glaring at Adam pointedly. Your face is so hot you could fry an egg on it right now. 

He smiles knowingly at you and shrugs. “I’m in no hurry, but if you insist….”

You watch him as he strolls leisurely towards one of the carriages, deliberately taking his time. You wish you had been an only child.

“What’s he talking about?” Catra asks, turning to look at you.

You laugh nervously. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just messing around.”

Her brows furrow and she opens her mouth to speak when you notice the next carriage pull up. 

“Look!” you say excitedly. “There’s our ride!”

You start to walk towards the wagon, but when you don’t feel Catra following you, you turn around to see her frozen to the spot, staring at the carriage with wide eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Don’t you see them?” You tilt your head and she points to the front of the carriage. “Right there!”

You look back, but all you see is an empty carriage with nothing pulling it, which you presume is magic at work. “What are you talking about?”

“Adora, this better not be some joke you’re playing because it’s not funny!” she snaps.

You stare at her with wide eyes. “I’m being serious. I don’t see anything.”

She rubs her eyes to look at the carriage once more and sighs.

“Let’s just go,” she mumbles, shaking her head. 

///

The start of your second year means that you can finally try out for the quidditch team like you’ve always wanted. You’re not surprised when they put you as a seeker. Slytherin chooses Glimmer as its chaser and you couldn’t be happier to have her on your team. Most people underestimate her and you’re glad that she can get a chance to show off her talent. 

You tell Catra the good news as you're walking the halls after class.

"Seriously? Hufflepuff put me as seeker too!" Catra says excitedly.

A part of you dreads having to fight her for the Golden Snitch. You both know she’s faster than you, even on her broom. Still, you try your best to be happy for her.

"That's great, Catra!" you say, smiling. 

She beams at you. "I still can't believe it! You and me, seekers in Hogwarts."

You decide to change the subject. “How’s Soren doing?” you ask.

“He’s settled down for now,” she replies, shrugging. “I think he just hates being cooped up in his cage all the time.”

You smile. “Why don’t you just send him to me with a letter? He likes seeing Swift Wind.”

For a moment, she’s struck speechless, staring at you like you’ve just suggested she feed him slugs instead of mice. Then, she laughs, bumping her shoulder against yours. “You just want an excuse to see my drawings.”

As you blatantly deny what she’s saying, you suddenly notice a tall Slytherin with long dark hair watching the two of you from the end of the hall. You recognize her from last year, when your brother warned you about her, told you she still believes that pure-bloods are superior. He made you promise to stay away from her.

True to your word, you stay away from her, but she doesn’t stay away from you. 

“Grayskull,” she calls, pushing herself off the wall she’s leaning against. “I’ve heard a lot about your family. It’s a pity your father decided to marry a half-blood.”

You grit your teeth. “At least my father didn’t marry his cousin.”

Her left eye twitches in irritation and you realize she is absolutely massive as she takes a step towards you. There’s very little chance you could take her on in a fight.

“Back off, Octavia,” Catra suddenly says, stepping between you and the other girl. 

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You know her?”

“Something like that,” she mumbles.

You suddenly notice the various scratches across Octavia's face, like they were left behind by someone's fingernails. 

Octavia doesn’t move, but she turns her attention to Catra. “Didn’t have enough the first time?”

Anger flares white hot inside your chest. “Wait, you hit her?”

She folds her arms across her chest, staring down at you. “So what if I did?”

“Adora, leave it. She’s just being a dumbface,” Catra begs and it’s the first time you’ve seen her look so scared.

You give in to Catra's wishes and head back to class, Catra sullen beside you and Octavia smirking at you like she's won. In the end, you can't help yourself. You halt in your tracks.

“Hey, Octavia!" you shout, and she turns towards you, confused. "You’re a dumbface!”

Octavia roars in anger and rushes at you. You grab Catra’s hand, running down the hall and weaving between students. It doesn’t take long to lose her and you lean against the wall, panting. You would have laughed if you weren’t so out of breath. 

“Thank you.”

You look up to see Catra smiling at you, her eyes shining, and you feel a sudden rush to protect her. 

“You’re welcome.” Your eyes drift to the bruise underneath her eye. Your hand moves across the space between you out of your own accord and you gently trace the edge of the yellowing mark. Catra inhales sharply at the touch and closes her eyes. Her skin burns underneath your fingertips.

“Does it hurt?” you ask quietly. 

When she opens her eyes, they flash with something sharp and intense.

“No,” she croaks, her voice coming out hoarse.

A shiver runs down your spine at the sound and she leans into your hand so that you’re cupping her face, your thumb resting below her eye. You could stay like this forever, staring into her eyes, but then a cough breaks the silence and you retract your hand as if you’ve been burned. A Gryffindor walks down the hall past you, his nose buried in the book he’s holding. 

She doesn’t talk about it and you pretend like it never happened, even if your heart shatters in the process. 

For Christmas, you visit Honeydukes with Bow and Glimmer, and fill your pockets with as many sweets as you can. Catra declined your invitation to join you and when you asked her why, she refused to tell you. The night has a lot in store and you nearly forget about her until you notice one of her favorite candies and your mood instantly turns dark the rest of the evening. At The Three Broomsticks, Bow watches you trace the lip of your untouched drink for the fifteenth time before he points out your odd behavior. 

“What’s got you so upset?” he asks, gently stilling your hand.

Glimmer nods in agreement. “You’ve been acting weird lately."

You shrug, hiding your face behind your butterbeer. “Nothing. Why would I be upset?”

Bow exchanges a look with Glimmer before he says, “We think you’re upset because of Catra.”

You tip your head back, forcefully downing the rest of your drink and setting the empty glass on the table.

“It has nothing to do with her,” you grumble. 

Glimmer stares at you. “So you’re telling me you’re not upset that she didn’t come with us?”

You shrug your shoulders halfheartedly. “I guess not.”

“Yes, you are,” Glimmer insists. “Stop being emo for like two seconds and tell us what’s going on.”

“Fine!” You throw your arms up into the air. “I’m mad because Catra won’t tell me why she didn’t want to come!”

Bow smiles. “See. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Whatever,” you snort. 

“You’re even starting to sound like her,” Glimmer snickers, dodging the swat you aim at her shoulder. You manage to get her into a headlock when Bow suddenly stands up from his stool, almost knocking it over. 

“Enough!” Bow announces, hands on his hips. “It’s time we settle this like real witches and wizards.”

Apparently what he meant was a snowball fight, not a duel, which is how you find yourself running from a barrage of snow being thrown at you. You finally find a suitable place to hide after being pelted with one too many snowballs when you hear a soft meow. 

A striped tabby cat slinks from behind one of Hogsmeade’s buildings, padding its way towards you. It meows again and rubs itself against you, curling in and out from between your legs. 

You smile and bend down to scratch behind its ears. “Hey, what’re you doing out here?” 

It purrs when you rub its head and wraps its tail around your ankle. The cat looks a little less than a year old and you notice that it’s a female. She has a beautiful splash of white fur across her chest and her eyes are an emerald green. You really wish you didn’t already have a pet so that you could take her home with you. 

“Adora!”

You turn to see Glimmer and Bow running towards you. Glimmer’s face is flushed from the cold and her silver and green scarf is dripping with wet snow. 

“There you are! We were looking all over for you!” she says, her teeth chattering together. 

“I found a cat! Look.” You turn around to find her, but she’s gone. The pawprints in the snow are the only sign she was ever there. 

“It must’ve run away.” Bow rubs his hands together for warmth. “Let’s head back home. It’s freezing out here.”

You look back one last time before you leave and you swear you see green eyes staring back at you from the shadows. 

///

You should have known Octavia would find you again.

You’re walking out of Potions with Catra when Octavia makes her move. She runs into Catra’s shoulder and sends her books flying. Catra glares at her before getting on her knees to pick up the scattered literature and you don’t hesitate to help her. 

“Get lost, freak,” Octavia says once Catra’s gathered all her books. “You don’t belong here.”

Instead of turning around and leaving, Catra stands her ground. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“Let’s just go. She’s not worth it,” you say, putting a hand on her shoulder. She shrugs it off roughly and takes a menacing step closer to Octavia. She’s half her size, but she doesn’t seem to care.

“Leave me alone,” Catra warns, and you notice her hand gripping her wand tightly at her side. 

Octavia laughs, eyeing her up and down with disdain. “Like I would listen to a Mudblood.”

It’s like time freezes, Octavia points her wand at Catra, a spell on the tip of her tongue and you don’t even have time to grab your own wand to defend her. 

It happens so fast you almost miss it, a white light bursts from the tip of Catra’s wand and Octavia screams, falling to the ground. She clutches her right eye, blood welling from underneath her fingers and coloring her silver and green tie crimson. Catra stares down at Octavia writhing on the ground, her gaze predatory. 

“Catra!” you shout, grabbing her by the arm. 

That seems to snap her out of her reverie. Her eyes widen as she seems to realize the full extent of what she’s done. 

“What did you do?” you ask desperately. You’ve never seen a spell like that and she had cast it without uttering a word, something sixth years can’t even do. 

“I―I don’t know,” she whispers, staring at her wand. 

Octavia’s screams seem to have attracted a crowd and some of the professors, who immediately pinpoint Catra as the offender. You tell them it wasn’t her fault, but they don’t listen to you and she’s led towards the headmistress’ office.

That should have been the first red flag. You don’t know why you hadn’t noticed it. Maybe it’s because she’s your dearest friend and you care about her. It isn’t until many years later, you realize you should have heeded that warning. 

Octavia spends a week in the hospital ward and comes back with a patch over her eye. She doesn’t look at you when you pass her in the hall and she doesn’t talk to you. The story going around is that she was in an “accident” that’s left her permanently blind in her right eye. 

McGonagall brings you in for questioning. You firmly believe that Catra acted in self-defense and even tell McGonagall so. 

“Listen to me carefully, Adora,” McGonagall says, the wrinkles on her face deepening. “Are you certain Octavia attacked first?”

The words echo in your head and your stomach twists painfully. You would never lie about something like that.

You exhale slowly. “Yes. I saw her point her wand at Catra.”

McGonagall watches you carefully, her glasses flashing in the light, before she nods her head. She seems satisfied with your statement. 

“You may go now, Adora,” she says, going back to the papers on her desk. 

You leave her office with the sinking feeling that your best friend is going to be expelled. 

///

Things take a turn for the better. 

Catra doesn’t get kicked out of Hogwarts, but she isn’t allowed to play on the quidditch team for the rest of the year. Octavia is expelled for attacking another student and it’s the talk of the school for the next several weeks. She had many enemies and many people are glad she's gone.

As you’re leaving the Great Hall after dinner, Catra grabs you by the elbow and drags you to one of your secret meeting spots. She fidgets in place, staring at the ground, and you patiently wait for her to speak.

“I didn’t mean to hurt Octavia,” she says quietly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, “but I was so scared she was going to hurt me.” Her blue and yellow eyes meet yours. “Hurt _you._ ”

You grab her hand, your fingers interlacing with hers. “You did what you had to do.”

“Did I?” she asks, but it feels like it’s directed towards herself. “I should have stopped for a second and thought it through, but instead I acted out and put you in danger.”

“You were defending us. If you hadn’t done it, we would have both been hurt.”

“I didn’t even feel in control of my magic.” Catra’s lower lip wobbles. “It was terrifying.”

“It’s going to be okay,” you soothe, running your thumb over her knuckles. “You’ll learn how to control it.”

Guilt flashes across her face for a moment and she gnaws at her lip. “Do you remember when you invited me to come with you to Hogsmeade?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I wasn’t allowed to go because I didn’t have a signed permission slip,” she sighs, shaking her head. “I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you would be mad at me for it.”

“Why would I be mad? If you had told me I would have found a way to sneak you in!” you exclaim.

“You’re so bad at hiding,” Catra laughs. “You would have got us caught.”

You grin. “Don’t deny it. I would have gotten you in.”

She rolls her eyes and untangles her fingers from yours to shove your shoulder lightly. 

Your second year ends with your heart in her hands.

  
  



	3. year 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> I'm back! Updates are going to be slow because I have a lot going on right now, but I'll try to get them out as soon as I can.
> 
> Warning: Blood, death (mentioned)

Third year is when you finally start growing into your body. Long hours of quidditch practice has turned all your baby fat into muscle. New calluses form on your palms from gripping the handle of your broom. It’s almost too easy, playing against the other houses, and you always breeze past the other seekers. Slytherin won nearly all of its matches last year, but that all changes when Catra is allowed to play quidditch again. 

You hate losing more than anything and that feeling hits you hard every time Hufflepuff wins against Slytherin. Catra always catches the Golden Snitch before you no matter how hard you try. You think it might be due to the fact she always winks at you at the start of the match, which instantly causes your face to flush in embarrassment. Hufflepuff quickly rises as the new quidditch champions of Hogwarts and you train even harder every time you lose. 

During one match, you’ve managed to catch up with Catra, both of you broom-to-broom, reaching for the Snitch flying in front of you. Your fingers just barely brush against its warm metal when Catra shoves her shoulder into yours to extend her reach. The movement causes you to lose balance, tilting sideways off your broom, the world spinning as you fall.

You brace yourself for the moment you’ll hit the ground, thoughts of broken bones and blood running through your head. Then someone grabs your forearm, a jolt of pain running through your shoulder at the motion. You look up to see Catra straining to hold you up, her face contorted with the effort, the muscles in her arm pulled taut.

The two of you crash to the ground, albeit at a shorter fall than before. Once you’ve regained your senses, youu stand up, your legs wobbling from the freefall and move over to where Catra’s laying in the grass. Her broom lies beside her, surprisingly unscathed. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, nearly falling over from how hard your legs are shaking. 

She groans in response and slowly sits up, rubbing her face. There’s dirt and grass in her hair and you brush some of it out with your fingers. 

“Why’d you help me?” At the sound of your voice, she looks up at you and frowns. “You lost the Snitch.”

For a moment, confusion crosses her face and then she laughs. “Do you really think I would let you fall to your death for a stupid Snitch?” 

You return her smile with one of your own, warmth bubbling inside your chest. The moment is broken by the nurse running towards you, immediately inspecting you for any wounds. 

From then on, you secretly start practicing quidditch with Catra. It’s a complete excuse to spend more time with her, but she shows you her tricks and you show her some of your own. 

The time of year rolls around when professors start to pile assignments on students and Care of Magical Creatures is one class you’ve stayed up way too many nights for. Your professor is extremely strict, _a real pain in the ass_ as Glimmer would say, and she doesn’t tolerate tardiness no matter the excuse. To say she’s annoyed when Catra is late to class would be an understatement. 

Catra bursts into the classroom two minutes after the clock strikes nine, her yellow and black tie undone and hanging loosely around her neck. She looks like she’s just woken up, dark circles underneath her eyes and her hair flattened on one side from where it was pressed up against her pillow. 

No sooner has Catra taken her seat does the professor say, “Ten points from Hufflepuff for tardiness.” She eyes Catra for a long moment, a pinched expression on her face. “And fix your tie, Catra,” she instructs, “or it’s another ten points.”

With the threat hanging above her, Catra hurriedly fastens her tie and tucks it neatly underneath her grey sweater. The professor hums and turns back towards the front of the room, her hands clasped behind her back. Catra catches your gaze and wrinkles her nose in a way you know means she’s annoyed.

You pull the ugliest face you can think of and she sends you a toothy grin, mouthing _loser_ at you from across the room. Bow coughs loudly beside you, giving you a knowing look and you force yourself not to flush underneath his stare. 

Your professor taps her wand sharply against the side of a student’s desk, the noise nearly making you jump out of your seat, and the pages of their book flip to one outlining various winged horses.

“Now that everyone is on the correct page ,” the professor continues, peering over your shoulder with hawk-like eyes, “I would like to draw your attention to the thestral.”

A chill goes down your spine at the sight of the figure etched into your book. 

The creature looks nothing at all like a horse you’d want to get close to. Something of a cross with a reptile, its black skin is drawn taut and almost all of its bones protrude from its body. A pair of leathery wings, similar to a bat, extend from its back, so thin you can see through them. A hooked beak lies in place of what should be a horse’s soft muzzle and the eyes are milky white. The caption below the figure reads _only visible to those who have seen death._

“Most of you have never seen one before,” the professor explains, pacing across the front of the room. She pauses, her eyes thoughtful. “Well, you have, in a manner of speaking. What students don’t realize is that the carriages at Hogwarts are pulled by thestrals.” She laughs to herself, as if she’s made some hilarious joke, and claps her hands together in excitement. “I’d imagine if any of you had actually seen them when you came here, you’d never come back!” 

You turn to look at Catra, but she won’t meet your eyes. Her jaw is set and she taps her quill mindlessly against the desk. 

All of the pieces slowly click together. The day you came back to Hogwarts, she saw them. It explains why she was so upset when you didn’t see them too. 

_Only visible to those who have seen death._

Catra has a troubled past she refuses to talk about and you had known better than to bring it up around her. Her problems must run deeper than you thought. 

“Ms. Grayskull!” You jolt upright, your knees banging into the bottom of the desk. Glimmer snorts from the seat behind you. The professor gives you a pointed look and continues, “Is there anything you wish to add or are you quite finished staring at other students?”

“No,” you answer quickly, straightening your shoulders and ignoring Bow’s stifled laughter. 

The professor sighs and continues on with her lecture about granians and abraxans, but you’re hardly paying attention.

By the time the class ends, you’ve doodled a cartoonish image of a thestral on your paper. Catra gets up from her desk and storms out of the room, ignoring you when you call her name. You chase her down by the entrance of Hufflepuff common room and grab her by the forearm. She yanks her arm out of your grasp and glares at you before continuing down the hall. It stings more than you’d like to admit. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, jogging to catch up with her. 

She whirls around, teeth bared, and you halt in your tracks. “I didn’t tell you because you wouldn’t have believed me!” 

“I would have believed you!” you shout back, your voice echoing down the hall. You know it’s only a matter of time before someone catches you wandering around where you shouldn’t be. “You’re my best friend!”

“You can lie to anyone you want, Adora, but don’t you dare lie to me,” she growls, poking a finger into your chest. “You probably think I’m crazy just like everyone else!”

“That’s not true!” you argue, but she doesn’t want to listen to a word you’re saying. 

“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “All you pure-bloods care about are your stupid titles and your stupid gossip.”

You’re not thinking straight and every single feeling that you’ve held down, locked away into the deep recesses of your heart, all of it comes bursting out. “You think I care about that?” you snap. “I care about _you_!”

Her eyes widen and she doesn’t move, frozen in place. You’re stupid, so stupid to have said that out loud. Embarrassment makes your chest burn and your stomach twist into a knot. You can’t stand the look on her face anymore so you turn on your heel and run towards the Slytherin common room. 

You don’t look back even when she calls your name.

///

You’ve never been good at ignoring people and Catra is no exception. The day after you confess to her, she pulls you into a secluded corner and you’re helpless to do anything but let her. 

She sits down against the wall and pats the empty space beside her. You reluctantly sit down beside her, putting enough distance between the two of you so that she won’t try anything. She wordlessly holds out a bag of sugar hexes towards you, a peace offering she knows you can’t resist. You take one and pop it into your mouth, chewing on it. 

“I care about you too.” 

Your head snaps up towards hers as you stare at her, your mouth hanging open.

She smiles softly at you. “You’re my best friend, Adora.”

Your heart sinks inside your chest but you force yourself to smile back. “So are you.” 

You were foolish enough to think she would harbor the same feelings towards you. As long as you’re by her side, being friends is good enough for you. The whole issue blows over and you’re playing Never Have I Ever like you always do, your thigh pressed against hers.

“Never have I ever cheated on a test.” 

Catra scowls and puts one of her fingers down. “You’re such a suck-up.”

You laugh and nudge her with your elbow. “You’re just mad that I still haven’t put any fingers down yet.”

“Fine." Her lips spread into a sly smile. “Never have I ever been a pure-blood.”

“Didn’t see that coming,” you say dryly, putting one of your fingers down. 

“That’s what she said.”

“Shut up,” you snort, elbowing her in the side. “Never have I ever kissed someone.”

“Hold on, you’ve never kissed anyone?” Catra exclaims, her eyes wide.

“Never,” you confirm, leaning your head back against the wall. “Have you?”

She grins and wiggles the few fingers she still has up. “Of course I have.” 

You watch her curiously. “What was it like?”

“It was nice.” She ponders for a moment and shrugs. “She used too much tongue though.”

“ _Tongue?_ ” you squeak, your ears burning. 

Catra throws her head back and laughs. “You’re such a prude, Adora. Have you seriously never kissed anyone before?”

You aim a kick at her legs. “No, I haven’t. Stop laughing!”

Her laughter dulls down to short bursts of giggling and she wipes a tear out of the corner of her eye. “Why do you want to know so much anyways?”

“I just wanted to know what the big deal about it was,” you say, tracing your finger mindlessly against the floor. “If it’s nice or anything.”

It’s quiet, and then her eyes meet yours. “Do you….want to try it?”

Your heart stops in your chest. 

“With you?” you breathe. 

She rolls her eyes. “No, with Kyle.” At your unamused look, she sighs. “Look, Adora, do you want to do it or not?”

“Yes,” you admit, trying to sound every bit as confident as you feel. 

She smiles and scoots closer to you, her face inches from yours and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage. _This should be fine, right?_ you think. _We’re just friends._

She brings her hands to cup either side of your face, her touch warm and soft. “Are you ready?”

You nod your head in quick succession, swallowing hard. You don’t even have time to contemplate whether or not this is a bad idea before she finally brings her lips to yours. It’s gentle and slow, her lips softly caressing your own. It’s water you’ve tasted after a month of drought. 

You don’t really know what you’re doing at first, but you’ve always been a quick learner and she guides you with her lips, showing you what to do. Her hands slide down from your face to grip your shoulders and somehow you end up pushing her backwards until her back hits the ground and you’re hovering over her. 

She lets out a small noise of surprise and you swallow it down, your mouth hungry against hers. It must trigger something within her because her throat rumbles in a growl and she surges forward, her nails biting into your shoulders. Her canine catches against your bottom lip, a sharp sting that rides the line of pain and stimulation and strikes through your foggy mind.

You hiss, pulling away from her and she immediately untangles herself from you. You both stare at each other, chests heaving and lips swollen. You wince, bringing your fingers to your lip and they come away tipped with red. Her mouth parts in an _oh_ , her pupils swallowing the irises of her eyes. The pulse at her neck beats quick and fast as she stares at the blood on your fingers. 

“I’m sorry,” she rasps, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Your first kiss shouldn’t have been that intense. You should have been laughing at how ridiculous it was. You shouldn’t be thinking of kissing her again. 

Catra runs a hand through her hair, a nervous tick she does before a difficult spell. “Let me heal that for you,” she offers.

You use the sleeve of your robe to wipe away the blood you feel dripping down your chin. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Would I have asked if I didn’t?”

You stay silent as she points her wand at your lip. 

“Episkey.”

The throbbing sensation disappears as you feel the skin knitting itself together, sealing shut. 

Catra gazes at you, that same soft look on her face she gets after you make her laugh. She brushes her thumb over your bottom lip, right over where it was split open, and you shiver, suddenly feeling hot and cold all over.

“There was blood there,” she explains, but doesn’t move her hand from your face. 

She’s staring at your mouth and you find yourself staring at hers. 

You don’t complain when she kisses you again.

///

It all goes wrong the day your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor decides to bring a boggart to class. You’ve heard of them before, how they feed off of your fear by transforming into what scares you the most. 

The wardrobe it’s trapped in rattles, wobbling on its legs, and everyone jumps at the sudden noise. 

Every student takes turns casting the spell, their deepest fears laid bare for all to see. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious to see what Catra’s boggart looks like. 

The line shuffles forward, but Catra doesn’t move, her feet firmly rooted in place. Her face has a pale sheen to it and her hands tremble at her sides. She’s clearly frightened of what she’s going to see. The professor tells her it will be alright, that everyone is scared of something, and gently brings her to stand in front of the boggart. 

It shifts through multiple shapes at once before it finally settles on the one thing she’s terrified to see, of everyone to see. 

A woman lays on the floor, her amber eyes lifeless and her dark skin pale. Blood runs down the side of her face, soaking her shirt a dark red and pooling around her head. She looks fairly young, in her mid-twenties if you had to guess. Her features are strikingly similar to Catra’s; her nose, the shape of her eyes. You realize with horror that this must be her mother.

Catra lets out a choked sob, her wand clattering to the floor. Everyone is frozen at the sight of the dead woman in the middle of the room. The professor snaps out of his initial shock and steps in front of Catra, drawing the boggart’s attention. It transforms into a dog barking viciously, spittle flying from its mouth. 

“Riddikulus!” he shouts, waving his wand in front of him.

The dog’s barks become squeaks, similar to that of a chew toy, and it runs with its tail tucked between its legs into the wardrobe. The professor locks it as soon as it slams shut. You turn towards Catra, but she’s gone, her wand abandoned on the floor. 

///

You find her outside of the greenhouses. She doesn’t run when she hears you approach.

“You dropped this," you say, holding out her wand towards her.

She doesn’t make any move to take it from you so you slip it into the pocket of your robe. You wish you could say something, anything, but you know she doesn’t need your pity. 

“She was my mother,” Catra finally says. She looks at you out of the corner of her eye. “I saw her die when I was four.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, moving closer to where she’s crouching. 

She opens her hand, the bud of a flower resting in her palm. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to find who killed her.” The small bud suddenly blooms into a black rose, its dark petals unfurling from one another. Catra drops the flower onto the ground as she stands up, coming to eye level with you.

“I don’t know how much time I have left,” she says sadly, her expression pained. 

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

She exhales slowly instead of answering, staring hard at the black rose on the ground. 

“Catra,” you start, putting a hand on her shoulder.

As soon as you touch her, she looks up at you and your breath catches in your chest. Her eyes are empty as tears roll down her face and her shoulders pull forward as if she’s shrinking in on herself. Your heart pangs with the pain you see etched across the lines of her body, the hurt that’s been carved into her soul. 

She surges forward, her lips smashing clumsily into yours and her fingers digging into the sides of your face as if to tell herself that you’re actually real. You get caught up in the moment, your mouth moving against hers slowly, and then you taste the saltiness of her tears and you break away from her. Catra’s shoulders shake as she cries and you pull her into a hug, gently rubbing her back. 

“I can’t do this with you,” she says, pushing away from you and wiping her eyes hastily. “I can’t be with you when I’m like this.”

You swallow hard. “I thought you said we were just friends.”

“We both know we were never just friends,” she says, giving you a shaky smile. “I know you’ll hate me, but this is for the best.”

Then she's pointing her wand at you, every line of her body rigid and a tightness in her face. You realize she must have slipped her hand into the pocket of your robe.

“Catra,” you say, taking a step towards her, “please don't―”

“Flipendo!” she utters, tears streaming down her face. 

A blue light flares from her wand and a heavy force that feels like a brick wall hits you so hard it sends you flying backwards.

By the time you've caught your breath and regained your senses, Catra’s nowhere to be seen and you’re left with your heart ripped right down the middle.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in conclusion, catra needs therapy


	4. year 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> 3,700 words later and my brain is fried. Enjoy!
> 
> Warning: Blood, Injury

You never realized how much you miss Catra until she’s gone. 

Her owl stops showing in the summer. You still have her old letters hidden in the bottom of your drawer. It hurts whenever you read them, but you don’t throw the letters away. The mark she’s left behind on your heart is like a scab you can’t stop picking. The satisfying feeling of peeling it off is always followed by the stinging pain as the wound reopens. 

She doesn’t answer your letters and Swift Wind often returns with your letter still clutched within his talons. You’re starting to think she’s changed from when you first met her. Maybe she’s always been this way and she’s just now starting to show it.

You like to think you’re good at hiding your feelings, but you’re proven wrong when your parents point out how quiet you’ve been during dinner one evening. You blame late night studying and they don’t push the issue. 

Even Adam, as much of a blockhead as he is, notices. You’re practicing quidditch with him when he passes you the ball, asks you why Catra never writes to you anymore, and you freeze, completely missing his throw from surprise. You’ve never really been open to telling your brother about your love life, no matter how complicated it may be, but his expression is patient and nothing short of caring. 

All the frustration, hurt, anger comes spilling out as you fall to your knees in the grass, the ball laying forgotten beside you and the dew seeping into your jeans as you weep. Adam wraps his arms around you, rubbing a hand soothingly up and down your back and you find comfort in the familiar scent of sandalwood and cypress flooding your nose.

You finally write to Bow and Glimmer about what happened. They do their best to cheer you up, but even they can’t heal a broken heart. 

August comes sooner than you’d like and you pack your bags for Hogwarts yet again. You brace yourself for the moment when you see her and pray that your traitorous heart won’t give you away. When you finally see her at the start-of-term banquet, your stomach flips. 

She’s not the same scrawny girl she was last year. She’s filled out, sharp cheekbones and lean muscle. She’s beautiful, admiringly so, the type that turns heads when she walks into the room. A spark of jealousy runs through you at the sight of her new gathering of admirers, many openly dragging their eyes over her. It’s clear they have other thoughts on their minds than whatever she’s talking about. 

Her chin rests on her hand and your chest tightens when you see her laugh, that same laugh you thought she only showed to you. You don’t even realize you’re staring until her eyes meet yours, amusement flashing across her face for a single second before she pointedly looks away, smiling at the Hufflepuff next to her. 

Not only does Catra pretend like you don’t exist, she does whatever she can to make your life miserable. 

In Potions, she “accidentally” knocks over a bottle of fire seeds into your batch of Veritaserum. In the Great Hall, she transfigures the blueberries in your bowl into beetles. She even goes as far as to tell the professors where your secret hiding spots are. 

It’s like she’s trying to make you hate her, like she wants you to fight back, but you know you’d be playing right into her hands if you tried anything. Catra is so clever that sometimes you wonder why she wasn’t put into Slytherin. She’s not at all like the other Hufllepuffs you’ve met, who are all kind words and soft smiles. Her words are biting and her smiles are cold, calculated. 

For Christmas, Bow drags you to Hogsmeade with him, says you need to take your mind off of what’s been going on lately, even though you’d much rather stay in your room. You’ve lost count of how many butterbeers you’ve had and the thought of Catra is pushed to the back of your mind. You don’t get to relish in it much longer because of course Catra has to walk into the same pub you’re in. 

It surprises you, since she was never able to go previous years and you figure she must have convinced someone to help her sneak in. You search the room for Bow, but he’s nowhere to be seen. You notice her watching you out of the corner of your eye and she sends you a sharp smile from across the room. 

You force yourself to tear your eyes away from her, hiding your face behind your mug and ignoring the way the back of your neck burns in embarrassment. The bartender passes by to refill your empty glass and you hand him another two sickles for the drink. You feel more than see her sit on the barstool beside you, the energy in the air hot and tense.

Her elbow brushes against yours and you jerk away from the touch, your heart beating a mile per minute within your chest. 

“Hey, Adora.”

The words drip off her tongue like honey, all dark and velvety. You’ve never heard her say your name like that before. It confuses and pleases you at the same time. You can’t let her win. She’s toyed with more than you’d like to admit.

You stare at the amber liquid in your mug stubbornly. “I don’t want to talk to you.” 

She laughs, low and sultry, and you take another swig of butterbeer to staunch the sudden dryness in your mouth. 

She leans in close, her breath tickling your ear, and whispers, “Who said anything about talking?”

Catra slides off the stool, the back of her hand brushing your thigh and slowly saunters out of the room. You watch her as she leaves, only to pause at the door to glance at you over her shoulder. Her eyes are dark with something that makes your stomach simmer and your brain swim. She exits slowly, as if she’s daring you to follow her. 

Your body moves out of your own accord and you nearly knock over the stool you’re sitting on in your haste to follow her. You burst out the doors of the pub, your breaths puffing up into small white clouds in the cold winter air. You think you see her disappear into an alley, a pair of mismatched eyes flashing in the dark. 

You turn the corner, but instead of Catra, a cat sits in the center of the alley, its ears perking up once it sees you. As it pads it's way closer to you, you notice that it’s the same tabby cat you saw when you came to Hogsmeade your second year. She chirps and slinks between your ankles, her soft fur tickling your skin. You haven’t seen her since your second year and you’d assumed she had either died or someone else took her in. 

“Hey, kitten. Have you seen a girl with two different colored eyes? Hufflepuff?” Her emerald eyes glint curiously and she lets out a disgruntled meow. You laugh. “Yeah, she’s a mean Hufflepuff.”

You slump onto the ground, ignoring the cold snow biting through your pants. “I just don’t know how to get her to talk to me again,” you sigh, scratching the cat behind her ears. “I wish she could be honest with me. Whatever she’s going through, she doesn’t need to be alone.” 

The cat stares at you, blinking slowly. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You can’t even understand me,” you mutter, irritation settling deep underneath your skin.

Tears well up in the corners of your eyes and you sniff, rubbing them away angrily. The tabby suddenly climbs into your lap, butting her head underneath your chin as if to comfort you. A low purr rumbles in her chest and you smile at the vibrations you feel in your lap. You have a soft spot for this strange cat and you want more than anything to take her back home with you. 

Just as you’re savoring the moment, she jolts upright in your lap, her eyes and ears trained on something down the alley. Her tails lashes from side to side and a growl rumbles from the back of her throat. 

“Adora!”

Bow’s voice echoes down the alley and you can barely make out his silhouette approaching in the night. As if on cue, the cat bristles and jumps out of your lap, bolting into the dark. 

“There you are!” Bow sighs in relief, moving to where you’re sitting. “What are you doing out here?” You stare in wonder at where the cat disappeared. 

“There was a cat,” you murmur, your eyes searching the shadows.

Bow frowns. “I think you’ve had too many butterbeers.” He helps you off the ground, slinging your arm over his shoulder to steady you. “Let’s go home.”

///

McGonagall announces the Yule Ball during the Christmas feast and the arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang Academy. The two schools make a dramatic entrance and you find yourself transfixed by their uniforms and their mannerisms. You make a few friends with some of them, but it’s not entirely special.

Word spreads quickly throughout the school and it’s not like you haven’t heard people talking about you. The big rumor going around is that Catra dumped you for someone else, even though you were just friends, and that you purposefully lost Slytherin House points just so Hufflepuff could win the House Cup. None of it is true, but it still bothers you every time you walk through the halls and hear someone talking about you. 

A date for the ball has been the last thing on your mind and almost everybody attending has one. Glimmer and Bow are going together, but they offer for you to come along with them. You don’t mind it all that much and it only matters to you that you enjoy the dance with your friends. 

The Yule Ball reminds you of the formal parties you had to attend back home. The orchestra plays softly in the background and you take a moment to admire the decor. Icicles drip down from the ceiling and the entire hall is coated in a blue light, giving off the aura of a winter’s night. 

You secretly hope that Catra doesn’t have a date either, but your hope quickly comes crashing down when she shows up with a Durmstrang student named Scorpia. They look good together and you know they’ll be the talk of the school for days. Catra smiles at you from across the room and turns away to laugh at something Scorpia tells her.

“Did you see the way Bow danced?” Glimmer laughs, stumbling towards you in her heels. She frowns when she notices who you’re staring at. “Forget her, Adora.”

“I can’t,” you start, already setting your cup down on the table and taking a step in their direction. “She’s up to something and I―”

“Don’t you dare,” Glimmer cuts you off, stilling you with a hand on your shoulder. “She’s only going to embarrass you. Everyone already thinks Catra broke up with you!”

_They’re not exactly wrong,_ you think. _We were almost-something and that hurts more than being friends ever could._

After a long moment, you sigh heavily. “You’re right,” you mumble, staring hard at the ground. 

“Hey,” Glimmer says, grabbing your hand in hers, “I know you’re hurting, but you need to show her that you don’t need her. Have some fun!” 

Catra whispers something in Scorpia’s ear and they both laugh, her eyes trained on yours. She winks and you force the fluttering feeling in your stomach down. Something tells you this is going to be a long night. 

You do your best to ignore Catra, but you can’t stand the way she’s grinning at her date, shooting you glances all the while, and you end up storming over to where they’re standing. 

“Can I talk to you in private?” you ask, your eyes flitting between her and Scorpia.

Her blue and yellow eyes flicker. “What part of ‘we’re not friends anymore’ don’t you understand?” She sloshes the drink in her glass and cocks an eyebrow at you. “I thought you’d get it after the beetles you had for breakfast the other day.” 

Scorpia sends you a lazy smile whenever you look at her and you restrain the urge to punch her square in the face. You need to get a hold of yourself. She hasn’t done anything wrong, even if you know she’s just a pawn in Catra’s game. 

“Please, Catra,” you beg. At this point, you’ll get down on your knees if you have to. “It’s important.”

She sighs dramatically, but hands her cup off to Scorpia. “Fine. Let’s go.”

You lead her to an unoccupied room and shut the door behind you. Catra leans back onto the desk and pretends to inspect her nails. 

“What was so important that you dragged me―”

You cut off her next words by slotting your mouth against her own, pulling her close by the collar of her shirt. For a moment, she’s frozen, and then she moves against you, every move desperate and frantic, her breath puffing out onto your lips.

It’s just as intense as the first time, only this time she’s mindful of her teeth, nipping lightly at your bottom lip. A part of you wants her to bite down harder, hard enough to draw blood, and the thought makes your hips stutter. She sighs against you, the fingers of one hand curling around your hip while the other digs into the back of your neck. 

The hole deep inside you yawns wide, threatening to swallow you whole. You drag your hands underneath her thighs and hoist her up onto the desk, stepping between her legs. She immediately wraps her legs around your waist, humming in content and pulls away to press an openmouthed kiss underneath your jaw. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, your fingers digging into her lower back, and she sucks on the skin at the hollow of your throat, the pressure sparking a fire low in your stomach. Then, she bites down, hard, and a choked moan bursts out of your chest. The sharp pain is immediately soothed when she laves her tongue over the fresh wound. You tangle your fingers in her hair, pulling her up so that you can kiss her again, savoring the coppery tang of your own blood on her tongue. 

You hear the telltale creak of the door opening and you break away from Catra, every muscle in your body drawn taut, but it shuts almost as soon as it opens. 

“Shit!” Catra swears, sliding off the desk and fixing the collar of her shirt. “Someone saw us.”

“So what?” You rub at the wound on your throat, which is probably an angry red by now. “Everyone thinks we were dating anyways.”

She fixes you with a glare, something dark swirling in her eyes, anger or fear you can’t tell. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

It hurts, that she can so plainly deny her feelings, even if you were the one who initiated the kiss. 

“I don’t understand,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “You kissed me back.”

Something dangerous flashes across her face. “I was looking for a fix.” She pushes you away from her and you stumble backwards from the force of it. “Don’t take it personally.”

The door slams shut behind her and you suddenly feel exhaustion seep into your bones, even though you haven’t danced at all tonight. You don’t really want to go back to the dance, but you figure Glimmer and Bow will be worried by now. As you’re making your way back to the Great Hall, someone yanks you by the arm into an empty corridor. 

“Lumos!”

A bright light fills the hall that reveals Glimmer staring back at you, holding her wand up like a flashlight.

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly, her voice laced with worry.

“What do you mean?”

That’s when you notice how red Glimmer’s face is. “Um, I saw you and Catra.”

Now it’s your turn for your face to turn red. “That was you?”

She exhales slowly. “I noticed you were gone and Catra was too. I assumed the worst and went looking for you,” she says, picking at the hem of her dress. “I heard noises coming from the room and thought you were being attacked, but then I opened the door and saw...exactly what I saw.”

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, “I thought we were just going to talk.”

“So did you make up with her?” Glimmer asks, a hopeful tone in her voice.

“No,” you sigh, your shoulders sinking. “She freaked out when she found out someone saw us. She said she was just using me.”

“Adora,” Glimmer says gently, “you can’t let her walk all over you like that.”

“I know,” you mumble, digging the toe of your shoe into the ground. “A part of me still wants to forgive her.”

Glimmer rubs your shoulder. “It’ll be okay. You don’t have to go back to the ball. We can go back to the common room and hang out if you want?”

You smile, suddenly feeling lighter than you have in the past year. “I’d like that.”

She eyes you for a long moment. “By the way, you um, got something on your neck.” 

You had nearly forgotten about the mark. You bring your hand up to touch it, the skin still tender and raw underneath your fingers. “Is it noticable?”

Glimmer doesn’t hesitate for a second. “Very.”

“Do you know any healing spells?”

She shakes her head. “No. You could just go to the hospital wing and they could heal it for you.”

“Are you out of your mind?” you squawk. “Anyone with half a brain can tell what this is.”

“You have a point.” 

“It’s fine. I’ll just cover it up tomorrow,” you say casually.

Glimmer snorts. “Good luck with that.”

As you sit with Glimmer on one of the couches in the Slytherin Common Room, you don’t think about Catra for a single moment. The two of you talk all night and you end up falling asleep as soon as you fall into the pillows of your bed. 

You dream of a man with bright green eyes and long white hair, snakes curling around his feet and hissing your name. It feels entirely too real, as if you’re standing there in front of him, and you can even feel his breath blowing across your face. He grasps you by the chin, his nails pricking into your skin. Your mouth opens in a soundless scream as you feel needles piercing your body, injecting liquid fire into your veins. _This isn’t real,_ you think. _He’s not real._

“Oh, Adora,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with venom. “Let me show you just how real I am.”

His lips peel back into a grin, teeth stained with blood, and then his nails slice open the skin of your forearm. White hot pain flashes across your vision, but you can’t move, can’t breathe. He leans in close, a black snake sliding around his shoulder onto yours, curling tight around your neck. The man laughs, green eyes swirling with malice, the pupils narrowing into thin slits. 

“Adora,” he chants as more snakes wind around your body. “Adora.”

“Adora.”

“Adora.”

“ _Adora!_ ”

Your eyes snap open, chest heaving as you gasp for air. Glimmer’s face swims in front of you and an intense wave of nausea rolls through you, making you tremble. Sweat runs down your face and your throat is sore, but you don’t remember screaming. 

“Shhh, it’s alright. You’re safe,” Glimmer says, rubbing her hand up and down your back. “Breathe with me, okay?”

You force yourself to push down the panic, focusing on the sounds of Glimmer’s breathing and matching your breaths to hers. The fear gripping your heart slowly ebbs away as you regain control of your breathing. When your vision clears, you notice the other Slytherins watching you from outside your door. 

“Is she going to be okay?” one of them asks, a worried expression on her face. 

“She’ll be fine,” Glimmer says, waving her off. “I can take it from here.”

As soon as they leave, you turn to look at Glimmer.

“What happened?” you croak, your voice mangled from overuse. 

“You were having a nightmare,” she explains. “I heard you screaming and I came as fast as I could.”

You remember flashes of your dream, the coiling of scales around your throat, the immense pain you felt. You feel extremely hot and you’re soaked to the bone with sweat. You peel your blanket off your body and Glimmer’s eyes widen, fixated on your arm. 

You look down and nearly faint at the sight. 

Three jagged cuts run across your forearm, as if something’s clawed into you, blood steadily dripping onto the sheets.

“Did you do that?” Glimmer asks, her face pale. 

Your body shakes uncontrollably. “No," you answer, your voice sounding small.

Green eyes flash through your mind.

_Let me show you how real I am._

You must have passed out from shock because the next time you wake up, you’re lying in a bed in the hospital ward. Your arm is wrapped in white gauze and heavily bandaged. One of the nurses finds you awake and alerts the headmistress. 

McGonagall appears in a flurry of robes, her normally serious face etched with worry. She asks you to tell her what happened and listens with a troubled expression. 

“The wound on your arm―it was inflicted by very powerful magic,” McGonagall explains. “So powerful not even a healing spell could mend it.” 

You feel like she knows more than what she’s letting on. “Who was that man?”

“A dark wizard who was thought to have been long dead,” she says carefully. Her glasses flash in the light and dread curls in your stomach at the fear in her eyes.

“His name is Horde Prime.”

  
  



	5. year 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> I hope this chapter explains everything that's been going on in the story so far. Let me know what you think! :)
> 
> On a side note, I hope you guys are staying safe. Make sure you're washing your hands for at least 20 seconds!

The nightmares stop after you leave Hogwarts for the summer. 

Adam comforts you in his own brotherly way, racing you on his broom over the backyard and sending you a knowing smile when you win. He ruffles your hair, says your scars look cool, that he wishes he had ones like that. The skin has completely healed over, three parallel lines curling around your forearm. It doesn’t bother you, but sometimes you find yourself absentmindedly tracing the puckered edges with your fingers, the feeling of the raised flesh alien to you. 

The scars are a constant reminder of Horde Prime, an unnerving memory that nudges the back of your mind. As crazy as it sounds, you’re curious to know more about him and McGonagall’s information was bleak at best. 

After digging through the old Daily Prophet papers your parents stashed in the attic, you learn he was the most powerful wizard of his age, how he killed many in his lust for immortality. His plans to conquer the world were disrupted when a witch named Mara gave her life to destroy him. There were suspicions that he was not truly dead, for rumors he had hidden a piece of his soul within a horcrux circled soon after his death. 

After they had no luck finding the rumoured horcrux, the Ministry of Magic gave up its search and brushed it off as what it was, a rumor. Although, you find it odd that within the past decade, many wizards and witches have mysteriously been murdered. You’re flipping through one of the newspapers when you stumble across a familiar sight. 

The black and white moving photo on the front page depicts a woman you recognize as Catra’s mother, cameras flashing as she walks towards a cab parked on the side of the road, a cloche hat partially covering her face. She walks with a regal air about her, her shoulders straightened and poised. It’s as if she’s been in the spotlight her whole life, etiquette instilled into her. There’s a sadness in her eyes, something raw and deep you can’t quite place. 

The headline above the photo reads “D’RILUTH KILLED IN SUSPECTED ROBBERY”. The article states her full name as C’yra D’riluth Ⅱ and you recognize her surname as part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. The D’riluths were powerful witches and wizards and their loss was felt throughout the wizarding community. 

It doesn’t make sense. Their bloodline ended when the last D’riluth died a few years ago. They never mentioned a daughter and Catra’s mother should have been the last known heir. 

_ Unless she was disowned by her family,  _ you think.

You find the D’riluth family tree and sure enough, under C’yra D’riluth Ⅰ, C’yra D’riluth Ⅱ’s portrait is burned off. You’ve seen blackened spots on your own family tree, clear signs that the relative was cast aside for an act labeled treacherous by the family. 

You dig deeper and find that Catra’s mother had a tryst with a Muggle. As soon as the D’riluths found out, he went missing, most likely killed to keep the affair quiet. The family proclaimed an offer to their daughter: either rejoin their ranks or be disowned forever. C’yra D’riluth Ⅱ refused, never forgiving her family for the death of her lover and she was officially marked a blood-traitor. 

Her pregnancy must have been kept a secret, something her own family hadn’t known, because you can’t find a single trace or mention of Catra anywhere. It all adds up, how Catra has no surname, no family to speak of. Her mother must have hidden them in plain sight, living amongst Muggles so that no one could trace her. 

Whoever she was hiding from was most likely her murderer. Somehow your gut tells you Horde Prime is connected to all this. The paper doesn’t go into too much detail about her death, only stating that she was found laying in cold blood on the street, all the items in her purse missing. 

You should tell Catra, but for all you know, she could be hiding her secret from everyone. Or she could be completely clueless. She never reads your letters so you decide you’ll tell her in person once you come back to Hogwarts. 

Your fifth year starts in disaster and you don't really find the time to tell her, rumors going around that someone saw a werewolf on the grounds and sparking fear into the first years. It comes as a shock to everyone when Professor Sprout and Headmistress Mcgonagall name Catra Hufflepuff’s new Prefect. She’s always been a strong leader, but her stand-offish personality would make it hard for anyone to truly respect her. Not to mention she’s just  _ mean.  _

Glimmer is named Slytherin Prefect, grumbling about how she has to work with Catra now under her breath even as she accepts the position with a smile on her face. You’re happy for her, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed you weren’t chosen instead. After the ceremony, McGonagall pulls you aside, saying with all the stress from the nightmares, it would be too much for you. Deep down you know she’s right and you don’t resent her for making that decision.

When you finally find a moment to let Catra know about her family, it doesn't go well. 

You wait in the hallway for her to leave her Transfiguration class, leaning against the wall. As soon as she sees you, she turns on her heel and starts walking in the opposite direction.  _ Typical. _

You run after her, narrowly avoiding a Ravenclaw with a handful of books in his arms. “Catra, there’s something important you should know!”

“Oh, really?” she snorts, turning a sharp corner in an attempt to shake you off. “What could possibly be so important that you’re _ stalking _ me―”

“You’re a D’riluth,” you blurt out. 

She stops abruptly, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you aside. 

“Keep your voice down, you idiot,” she hisses, her eyes scanning the hall. 

You frown. “Wait, you know?”

“Of course I know,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“Then why―”

“Why haven’t I claimed my inheritance?” she cuts you off, sneering. “Because I don’t want the press to know.” Her face hardens even as she turns away from you. “Newsflash Adora: my family wasn't exactly known for being good people. If word got out, it would ruin everything I’ve ever worked for.”

You say nothing, staring at her. Catra meets your gaze, blue and yellow eyes glinting in the light. 

“Don’t you dare breathe a word of this to anyone,” she threatens, glaring at you as she walks away. 

The rift between her and you grows wider and you can’t help but feel like she’s slipping through your fingers. 

Surprisingly, the nightmares don’t come again, but Glimmer still insists on sleeping by your bedside just in case. You think she’s still rattled by what happened last year, the terrifying feeling of almost losing her friend fresh in her mind. 

You’ve just finished quidditch practice for the day, your muscles sore and aching, when Catra approaches you. 

“Adora!” Catra calls, jogging towards you, her bangs pushed back by her headband. 

You stop dead in your tracks. You still haven’t forgotten about what happened the other day and you’d expected her to ignore you again. Nervousness flutters in your stomach and your palms start to sweat. She’s slightly out of breath, sweat beading along her forehead, and she leans heavily on her broomstick.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” she asks, jerking her head towards an empty alcove. 

You follow her silently, collapsing onto the ground to relieve your aching thighs. She does the same, setting her broom down in front of her. 

“So,” you start, undoing the buckles of your gloves and dropping them carelessly onto the ground beside you, “what did you want to tell me?”

You watch her expectantly, but she’s not looking at you. She’s staring at your arm. 

Shit. You had forgotten about the scars. You tug your sleeve down to hide it and her eyes finally snap up towards yours. 

“So that’s why you were in the hospital ward last year,” she murmurs more to herself than you. 

Anger swirls low in your stomach, rearing its ugly head. Of course she knew that you almost died and didn’t visit you. Of course she didn’t even bother to mention it until now. 

“You knew and didn’t think to send me a letter? Ask me if I was okay?” You stand up abruptly, grabbing your gloves and broom off the ground. “You really don’t care, do you?”

“I do care!” She scrambles to her feet, alarm on her face. “I really was worried about you.”

You stop dead in your tracks, glaring at her. “But not enough to send me a letter?” She starts to come up with some excuse, how she had her own problems to worry about, but you cut her off. “You don’t even realize how much you fucked me up with everything. You tell me you care about me and then you’re telling me you were just using me! I’m sick and tired of waiting for you to make your mind up.”

She’s struck speechless, her posture stiffening, and you push past her, knowing no answer is better than one. 

///

You gain a newfound interest in Defense Against the Dark Arts, particularly because you want to be able to defend yourself against Horde Prime. 

Expecto Patronum is an extremely difficult spell, one you’re not able to learn quickly and it frustrates you. Every time you try to think of a happy memory, you think of Catra and anger floods your veins. Jealousy gnaws at your stomach when you notice a Gryffindor conjure her patronus, a silvery stoat darting back and forth between her feet. 

You grip your wand tightly, a bead of sweat rolling down your brow and concentrate. 

The day your brother taught you how to fly, your mother reading you bedtime stories of magical creatures, your father bringing you another souvenir from his trip. When Catra’s face flashes across your mind, her smile soft, you force down the dark feelings of hurt you normally associate with her and focus on only the happy memories you had with her. 

A silver light sparks from the end of your wand, cloaking the entire room in its brightness. A translucent unicorn gallops circles around you, graceful and gleaming. It whinnies, its flank brushing against your side. Warmth fills your entire body and you smile for what feels like the first time in forever. 

“Nice patronus.”

You whip around to see Catra watching you, her movements hesitant. 

“Figures you’d get a unicorn,” she says softly, a curiously vulnerable look on her face. 

Your patronus snorts loudly and Catra squeaks, jumping backwards. You laugh. 

“Where’s yours?” you ask, pushing away your patronus by the snout when you feel it nibbling at your hair. 

“Like you care,” she bites out, but you can tell from the tenseness in her shoulders she doesn’t really mean it. She sighs, long and heavy. “I can’t get the spell to work.” 

You take a step towards her. “Just think of your happiest memory.” You guide her elbow so that she’s holding her wand in the correct position. When she doesn’t flinch away from your touch, you slide a hand to her lower back to straighten her spine. “Keep your back straight and focus.” You ignore the feeling of her eyes boring into your face and step away from her, clearing your throat.

A light sputters and disappears in the air and she frowns. She tries again and the image flickers before dying off. 

“It’s okay,” you say, smiling. “You’ll get it.”

She breathes in deep, saying the spell with more force in her words, and then a thin wisp of silver escapes her wand into the air in front of her. A white twisting form takes the shape of a tiger prowling across the room, its muscles rippling when it walks. The stripes on its coat are a brilliant silver, and it curls up at her feet protectively, a low rumble bursting from its chest. 

“Woah,” you breathe, watching as it yawns lazily. 

Then, as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone, vanishing into the air without a trace. 

Catra gazes at you, a deepness in her eyes that makes your whole body ache with want. The need to be closer to her, to wrap yourself around her, intertwine your fingers with hers, is almost unbearable. 

She takes a meticulous step forward. “Adora, there’s something I need to―”

Her next words are interrupted by the professor announcing the end of class and she hurriedly gathers her books, moving towards the door. 

“Wait!” you call to her back, and for once, she stops to look at you. “What were you going to say?”

She shakes her head, her eyes downcast. “Forget it.” 

You pretend like it doesn’t hurt that she still doesn’t trust you.

///

You wake up in the middle of the night to someone whispering your name. 

At first you think it’s Glimmer, but she’s sound asleep beside your bed, softly snoring. 

_ Adora. _

It comes again, more insistent this time. You rub your temples, but the voice doesn’t go away. 

_ The Forest. _

Against your better judgement, you slowly slide out from beneath your covers, careful not to disturb Glimmer, and tiptoe to where your cloak is draped over your chair. You throw it over your shoulders and grab your wand as you leave, quietly closing the door behind you. 

Before you know it, you're staggering into the Forbidden Forest, the whispers growing louder as you venture deeper. The moon cloaks everything in a blue light and fog curls at your feet. It’s almost unnaturally cold, the kind that makes you tug your cloak tighter around yourself. The undergrowth bites at your ankles and you vaguely remember stories of the Acromantulas that lurk through here.

A sharp pain strikes through your head and you brace yourself against a tree, nausea flipping your stomach over. You faintly hear someone talking, barely making out the two figures in the dark. As you tiptoe closer, you recognize Horde Prime’s harsh tones. 

“And what could you possibly offer me?” he asks, his eyes glowing bright green in the dark.

“My loyalty. I also have information about Hogwarts that could prove useful,” a feminine voice answers. 

The moonlight catches on the other figure’s face as they turn and you realize with shock that it’s Catra. 

She smiles, a dark and twisted thing on her face. “You want to kill Adora? I know everything about her―her weaknesses, her strengths.” She steps closer. “I can get close to her, trick her so that she falls right into your hands.”

Tears prick the backs of your eyes and you clasp a hand over your mouth, stifling the sob that tries to work its way out of your throat. You’d never thought she’d go so low as to aid in a dark wizard’s plan to murder you. 

Horde Prime laughs, an unnatural sound that works its way out of his mouth. “You certainly know how to draw a bargain.” 

“Do we have a deal or not?” she says, extending her hand towards his. 

He grabs her hand, but instead of shaking it, he steps closer to her and yanks up the sleeve of her robe to expose the underside of her arm. 

“First, I must give you the Dark Mark,” he answers, digging the tip of his wand into her skin. A cruel grin stretches across his face. "Think of it as a mark of loyalty.” 

Catra screams, reflexively jerking away, but his grip is iron and she’s forced to stay still. You can see the steam rising into the air from her skin. He lets go of her and she nearly collapses to the ground from the pain. 

The Dark Mark branded onto her arm makes you feel sick to your stomach. The green skull yawns open in a wide grin, a serpent in place of a tongue. 

Your best friend just pledged her loyalty to a man that’s trying to kill you. How could someone you love, who you thought loved you back, betray you so easily?

Your gut wrenches and you can’t control the whimper that slips past your lips as you stumble backwards. The two of them snap their heads towards you and if they hadn't seen you before, they clearly see you now. Surprise crosses Catra’s face and she stares at you in shock. 

Horde Prime grins and turns to Catra. “Bring her to me. I’ll be waiting.”

You don’t wait for her to catch you, running through the woods, ignoring the branches whipping at your face and cutting into your skin. 

“Incendio!” you hear her shout from behind you. 

You duck just in time for the ball of fire aimed for your head to hit the tree next to you, setting it aflame in a matter of seconds. The towers of Hogwarts steadily come into view in the distance. If you get close enough you’ll be able to―

A heavy weight knocks into your back, slamming you into the ground. You gasp, trying to breathe air back into your lungs. The scent of dark wood floods your senses and you don’t need to see her to know Catra’s pinning you down.

“Don’t move,” Catra hisses in your ear, the dulled point of her wand pressing into your throat. 

You rear back, slamming the back of your head into her nose, a crack ringing through the air, and you take a moment while she’s stunned to scramble to your feet. You don’t bother pulling out your wand, more focused on fleeing than fighting. 

Suddenly your whole world flips upside down, and you’re dangling in midair by your ankles. Catra stalks towards you, angrily wiping away the stream of blood spurting out of her nose. It paints the lower half of her face bright red, running down her throat to drip onto the white collar of her shirt. You struggle to twist out of the magic pinning you up in the air, but it’s no use. Her magic is more advanced than you’d originally thought. You think you see regret flash in her eyes, but when you blink it’s gone. 

She lifts her wand, the air thrumming with energy and says, “Stupe―”

“Expelliarmus!”

A red light sends her wand flying into the brush and the scowl on her face deepens once she sees whoever disarmed her. You twist the upper half of your body from where you’re hanging in the air to see Bow pointing his wand at Catra, Glimmer not far behind him. 

“Get away from her,” Bow warns, stepping closer to you.

Catra knows she’s outnumbered, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. She seems reluctant to leave. 

“Bow,” Glimmer suddenly gasps, her eyes wide, “she has a Dark Mark.”

They hesitate for a moment, and that’s all Catra needs, a loud pop resonating throughout the air as she apparates. As soon as she disappears, you crash head first into the ground, groaning upon impact. 

“We need to get out of here,” you grunt as Glimmer and Bow help you to your feet. “Now.”

As you run towards the safety of Hogwarts, you don’t look back for fear you’ll see Horde Prime watching you, his face twisted in a dark smile. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus points to anyone who can guess my patronus


	6. year 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> I'm still not entirely satisfied with this chapter, but here it is! Thank you for being patient and I hope you guys are staying safe!
> 
> Warning: Death, blood.

Word of the attack spreads fast over the summer.

The press can use your own words against you, this you know from years in the spotlight, so you really shouldn’t be surprised when the Daily Prophet sides with the Ministry. They twist your story around to make it seem like you’re vying for attention now that your brother’s been offered a job training dragons overseas.

What does surprise you though, is how oblivious people can be.

Everyone’s pretending nothing’s wrong, like the newfound attacks on Muggles aren’t something to be worried about. The Ministry’s turned a blind eye to the chaos and their comments to the public are filled with false promises and bittersweet reassurance. 

Then there’s the feeling of someone watching you, the ghost of fingers on the back of your neck and the whispers prodding the edges of your mind. It follows you when Adam graduates, and you laugh and smile all while keeping a careful watch behind your back.

It’s there the day Adam leaves, when you gift him with a small wooden figurine of his favorite dragon, the Norwegian Ridgeback. You had spent over a month carving the damn thing, but the way Adam’s face lights up once he sees it makes it worth all the cuts on your fingers. He hugs you tightly and when he pulls away, you catch him rubbing tears from eyes. 

Of course, you jump on the opportunity to tease him about it until he pulls you into a headlock and rubs his knuckles against your head. It’s like you’re kids again, with no worries and no care in the world, and then the train whistle blows and the moment is broken. Your throat corks up and all the words you wanted to say before he leaves are gone. Adam must understand that you can’t open your mouth or you’ll start crying so he hugs you, his chin resting on top of your head and your face tucked into his shoulder. You watch him go as he boards the train, waving goodbye until you can’t see him anymore. 

It doesn’t hit you until then, how much you’re going to miss him, and that’s when the tears start to flow. Adam’s always been protective of you, in his own annoying way. You overheard him telling your parents he’s worried about leaving you alone with everything that’s been going on. Since then, you tried to reassure him that you can look after yourself, but you know he’s always going to worry about you. 

When you come back to Hogwarts in September, you search for Catra at the Hufflepuff table, even though you know she’s gone for good. You still remember her smile that night, an ugly twisted thing that looked so wrong on her face and so different from the ones she’d shown you. Sometimes your eyes play tricks on you and you think you see her mismatched eyes in the crowded hallways.

You quit the quidditch team that year, handing your uniform to your team captain and avoiding his searching gaze when you tell him your grades are starting to show for the long hours at practice. It’s a bullshit excuse, but he doesn’t push you to stay and you think it’s because he knows the real reason why you’re leaving.

It’s not the same without Catra. 

You miss watching the wind running through her hair. You miss the way she’d push her goggles up her forehead at the end of a match, balancing precariously on the edge of her broom and sending you a smug smile from across the field. 

One thing you don’t miss is the ache that’s settled deep in your chest at the thought of her. Although Catra’s never mentioned in the news by name, you recognize her trademark; the spell she uses on her victims is similar to the one she used against Octavia. It’s easy to pretend you’re over her, but it’s hard to pretend your heart still doesn’t race at the thought of her. Pretending doesn’t make the feelings you tell yourself are only lingering disappear. 

You get your wake up call in Potions.

“Can anyone tell me what Amortentia is?” your professor asks as he adds another ingredient to the cauldron. 

There’s a long moment of silence and then a Gryffindor raises her hand. 

“It’s a love potion,” she answers, her eyes locking onto yours for a moment too long to be considered friendly. 

“Very good.” As the professor moves across the room to grab something off the shelf, the Gryffindor sends you a wink that instantly makes you flush to the tips of your ears. You keep your eyes trained on your desk and try to focus on the swirling patterns in the wood.

The professor lifts the lid of the bubbling cauldron, steam rising into the air. “Whoever drinks it will become infatuated with whoever administered it,” he explains, swirling the mixture a few times. “It smells different for each person according to what attracts them. Ms. Grayskull!” You lift your head from where it’s resting on your hand, dread twisting your stomach into a knot. He’s painfully oblivious to your anxiety, a smile stretched wide across his face. “Would you mind coming to the front of the class?” 

He’s worded it as a question, but judging by the tone of his voice, it’s more of a command. As you make your way through the desks towards him, you risk a glance at the Gryffindor only to find she’s still watching you, a smirk tugging the corner of her mouth. She drags her eyes over your body shamelessly and suddenly the clothes you’re wearing feel like they’re hiding nothing at all. The professor clears his throat twice, tapping his foot impatiently, and you snap your head forward, quickening your pace. The liquid in the cauldron has a pearly sheen on its surface, a spiralling steam softly rising from it. 

The professor gestures towards the potion. “Go ahead. Get a whiff of it.” 

You lean in close enough to feel the heat tickling your face and take a deep breath.

“What do you smell?” the professor asks excitedly, his eyes sparkling. 

“Butterscotch, quill ink―” The words die on your lips as sharp, sweet pine you’d recognize anywhere overwhelms your senses. 

_It smells like_ ―

“Catra.”

You don’t even realize you’ve said it out loud until the professor’s voice startles you out of your trance. “What did you say?” he asks, squinting at you behind the glasses sitting crooked on his nose. 

“I, uh, said,” you fumble for something, anything, and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, “my cat.”

That earns you a few snickers and some stares from your classmates. The professor gives you an incredulous look and, much to your relief, sends you back to your desk. 

Just when you thought you were over her, the universe once again proves you wrong. 

///

Your dreams are plagued by visions of something glittering in the Forbidden Forest, something pure that stands out among the gnarled twisted roots of the trees. Every dream is the same―a low whispering that grows louder as you draw close and right before you can touch it, you’re startled awake. 

You decide to do something about it the third night it happens. 

“Glimmer, get up,” you whisper, shaking her awake from where she’s sleeping beside your bed.

She rubs her face, watching you move across the room with bleary eyes. “Where are you going?” she slurs, voice wracked with sleep. “It’s not time for breakfast yet.”

“ _We_ ,” you correct, tossing her cloak at her, “are going to the Forbidden Forest.” 

She jerks upright, suddenly more alert than she was moments ago. “Is it Horde Prime again?” 

You hesitate. “I don’t think so, but it’s best if we bring Bow along.”

Glimmer sighs, but doesn’t protest, tugging her socks on and grabbing her wand off the wardrobe. 

You know she’s been taking it the hardest. Her father was an active voice in wizarding affairs and the Ministry of Magic. He disappeared during an attack on the Ministry when Horde Prime first rose to power and was presumed dead. Glimmer hates Horde Prime for taking her father out of her life and she'll do anything she can to stop him.

After some sneaking around and not-so-quiet shushing, you stand at the edge of the Forbidden Forest with a tired Bow beside you. The temperature in the air drops as soon as you enter the woods, sending shivers down your spine.

Bow wraps his cloak tightly around himself, rubbing his arms to warm them. “So what are we trying to find?”

“It’s bright and shiny,” you reply, your eyes roaming the neverending darkness ahead. “You can’t miss it.”

“Great,” Glimmer groans, “she doesn’t even know what it is.”

Then something flashes in the distance, a quick and fleeting light you almost miss.

“There!” You point, but it’s gone before they can see it. “Come on.” You draw your wand and move through the brush, kicking up the mist that curls around your feet. 

You’re running so fast you don’t even realize your friends are lagging behind. Their calls for you to slow down fall on deaf ears. 

“I think I see it!” you shout. “I’m almost―”

_Adora,_ the familiar voice in your head suddenly whispers, _you must find the sword._

Your vision blurs in front of you, a green light and a woman screaming, and when you come to, you’re on your knees gripping the dark soil beneath your fingers. Moments later, Bow and Glimmer burst through the brush, looking a little worse for wear. 

“Don’t―” Bow pants, hands on his knees, “―do that again.” 

Glimmer helps you to your feet, brushing the dirt off your cloak. “Are you okay?” 

You freeze, something catching your eye from behind her and she turns to see what you’re looking at. 

The air shimmers, flickering and shining like gentle waves. It appears out of thin air, a beautiful weapon that looks untouched even though it feels centuries old. 

“What is that?” Glimmer breathes, her eyes wide open in awe. 

_Take it._

You take a step forward, extending your hand, entranced by the light gleaming off the blue stone embedded in the cross handle.

_It is your destiny._

Your fingers wrap around the golden handle of the sword, strangely warm to the touch, and then your whole world flashes in a brilliant white. 

Memories flood through your mind, not your own, but through the eyes of who owned the sword before you. It shows you the countless battles it’s won, how it’s taken the lives of many, tasted the blood of its enemies. 

The visions shift one after another in a blur of dark smoke until you’re standing in a small hut. An old woman, _Razz_ the voice whispers, grasps your hand in her own wrinkled one, her smile missing some teeth. “You must give her the sword, Mara. She will save us all.” 

“I’m not―” you start to tell her, but stop once you hear the voice that comes out. It’s light and airy and sounds exactly like the one that’s been guiding you this entire time. 

“Oh, Mara, dearie,” Razz says, leaning on a broom she’s using as a walking stick. “It’s going to be alright. The prophecy never lies.” 

_What prophecy?_ you want to ask, but then gray smoke cloaks her form and she’s gone. 

The memories warp again, until Horde Prime is standing before you. You almost don’t recognize him; his hair is black and cropped short and his eyes are a dark shade of red. You’re kneeling on the muddy ground, the rain washing away the dirt and blood on your skin. It’s not your body, the fingers are thin and the skin dark, but you know exactly who’s eyes you’re looking through right now. 

“Mara,” he drawls, voice oozing contempt, “you should have known your efforts were in vain. Give me the sword.” He extends his hand, the nails long and sharp. “Say my name and all your pain will go away.”

You want to. Every bone in your body aches, the cuts on your body sting with every movement, and your limbs protest when you move to stand on your feet. You want to, but you know you can’t give in. You can’t let him use the sword’s power. He’s only kept you alive long enough to give him what he wants. 

Mara’s voice crawls out of your throat, rough with fatigue. “Never.”

Your grip tightens around the hilt, the grooves familiar and the metal warm in your hand. An unfamiliar magic thrums through the sword, something that bleeds into your palms and fills you with renown strength. Razz told Mara her name, the girl from the prophecy who would be the one to stop him. _She will save us all,_ she had told her. 

Fire burns in your lungs as you run him through with your blade, his gurgles loud in your ear. He drops dead beside you and you watch as your blood mingles with his own in the mud, bright red swirling into an almost dark black. The sword flickers in your hands, becoming more and more incorporeal, and you know it’s only a matter of time before it disappears for good. 

You gasp her name with your last breath, handing the sword over to a girl you’ve never met and hope she won’t meet the same fate as you. The world will hail you a hero but they will never know you only prolonged their fate. 

_You can save the world, Adora,_ the voice, Mara, says. _Don’t fail like I did._

You wake up heaving, the feeling of death fresh in your body and your stomach rolling with nausea. Glimmer and Bow say something, but the ringing in your ears makes it hard to hear them. You barely catch the end of a question, “―wrong with her?” 

“I’m okay,” you say, more to yourself than to them. You wave off Bow when he tries to help you to your feet and rise on shaky legs. Goosebumps break out along your skin from the feeling of cuts and bruises that aren’t there. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Bow asks, nervously eyeing the sword. “You blacked out as soon as you touched the sword.”

“I don’t trust that thing.” Glimmer shakes her head. “Let’s get out of here before it tries to kill us again.” 

“Again?” you blurt, stopping in your tracks. 

Glimmer glances at Bow and then back at you. She lifts her hand and you’re horrified to see the glove she’s wearing has been burned through, the skin a blistering red. “I tried taking it from you and it burned me.” 

_It must be enchanted_ , you think. The light from the sword catches your eye, beckoning you to take it and you remember the way it felt to hold it, how its magic made you feel. 

“It showed me memories,” you say, kneeling beside the sword. “I saw Horde Prime and Mara. She mentioned a prophecy.” Glimmer stiffens at that, a faraway look in her eyes. “What is it?”

“It’s just―” she sighs, gnawing at her lip. “How can we be sure any of it is true? That sword could be evil for all we know.”

“I saw what happened.” Your hand hovers above the sword and you feel the magic rolling off of it in waves. “It could help us defeat Horde Prime.”

Bow stills you by the shoulder. “This isn’t your fight, Adora,” he tries. “We should just turn the sword over to the Ministry.”

“You saw what it did to Glimmer.” You gesture towards her hand. “What good is it to them if they can’t use it?” He stays silent and you continue, “I need to do this.”

You grab the sword and turn towards the school, trying not to think too much about your fate and if you’ll end up like Mara.

///

You practice with the sword in secret, trying to get it to work, but it just doesn’t do anything for you. The magic within it calls to you, but it won’t do your bidding. You’re not even sure what it does. It’s resistant to any spell you throw at it.

Glimmer does some digging in the restricted section of the library and returns with interesting information. The weapon is called the Sword of Protection and it’s said to have been made by old magic. Legend has that it chooses its master, but it can be passed to another. The sword gives the wielder strength that moves mountains and carves out valleys. You understand now why Horde Prime would want it for his own. 

Meanwhile, the dreams keep getting stranger, filled with dark hallways covered in fires of burning blue and a plaque bearing the number 6. You bring it up to Glimmer as you’re studying one day.

“If I had to guess,” she hums thoughtfully, “I’d say that would be somewhere in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Of course it is,” you mutter.

“This prophecy you mentioned,” Glimmer flips through one of her books until she finds the page she’s looking for. “I think the Ministry might have a record of it there too.”

You shoot her a smug grin. “So we’re going to break in?”

“You never do things the easy way, do you?” she sighs, rubbing her temples. “But I’m with you on this one.” Her eyes harden and you’re taken aback by the determination in them. “We’re going to have to break into the Ministry of Magic.”

The three of you plan and prepare for weeks. Since her father used to work there, Glimmer knows the general layout of the building and how to get inside. Bow brews some potions you’ll need and comes up with a strategy to get in and out without being caught. 

It’s not easy to sneak into the Department of Mysteries, the entire floor is a confusing maze, but when you enter a dark chamber you know exactly where you are. Rows upon rows of shelves lined with orbs fill the room, some lit up bright and others dull. The cold air is biting and you’re suddenly glad you decided to wear a sweater. You keep walking until you reach the sixth shelf.

A small white orb rests above the plaque labeled “6” and you know it’s the prophecy you’re looking for. 

“This is it,” you murmur, picking it up in your hand.

“ _The second child born in the first month of the year rises to defeat Horde Prime_ ,” a voice from the orb echoes, “ _The dark one seeks to take her birthright, but she has power he knows not. When true love reveals itself, only then shall he fall._ ”

A sharp flash of pain goes through your head and you fall onto the ground, crying out. You brace yourself for another vision, fighting down the nausea that crawls up your throat. 

You look up to see Catra standing in front of you, but there’s something wrong. The right side of her body is covered in black shadows and your mind screams at you to _run, run, run._

She grins at you, her fangs glinting in the light. The same smile you once loved twists your stomach into knots. 

“Don’t pretend like you care, Adora,” she says, her tongue curling over your name. Catra leans over you, her breath hot on your lips. “I know you hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” you reply even as fear shackles your heart. 

The shadows swirling around her draw back until you see the same girl who sat on the train with you your first year. Your breath catches in your throat as she reaches her hand out to caress your cheek, and you allow yourself to be weak for a moment. Then the darkness swallows her again, bleeding into the right side of her face and turning the pupil of her eye a milky white. The gentle touch turns brutal, her nails biting deep into your skin and you try to calm your racing heart. 

“This is your fault.” Her voice is twisted and warped, crackling at the edges. “You made me this.”

Horde Prime’s voice echoes through your head. _This is what she will become if you don’t give up._

You scream, forcing him out of your head with every ounce of strength you have. When you come to, Glimmer is nowhere in sight and Bow’s desperately fighting off a man cloaked in black. He deflects an incoming spell and fires one back, the blue light from his wand finding its mark. You stagger to your feet just as the man is knocked into the wall, crumpling to the ground. Bow lowers his wand, gulping in deep breaths. The cut on his forehead bleeds freely and he wipes at it with his hand before it can run into his eyes. 

“Where’s Glimmer?” you croak, willing your headache to go away. 

“I don’t know!” His voice is lined with hysteria and he raises his hands to his head, fingers digging into his scalp. “We were attacked and she was right―”

A flash of light and a blast at the end of the corridor cuts him off and he exchanges a look with you before the both of you sprint towards the fighting.

The sound of something exploding grows louder as you come closer and you turn the corner to come face to face with Glimmer. Relief crosses her face, and then her eyes widen at something behind you and she tackles you to the ground. A fiery orange light shoots past your ear, shattering a mirror on the wall, and Bow grabs your arm to tug you behind cover.

“What took you so long?” Glimmer shouts over the boom of another explosion. 

“Things didn’t go exactly as planned!” Bow responds, blindly sending a spell back.

“No kidding! I was kidnapped!” Glimmer peeks around the wall to get a look at whoever’s attacking and barely manages to move back in time before a blasting spell takes a chunk out of the concrete where her head was. “Then Catra―” Her mouth clicks shut as she seems to realize what she just let slip. 

“She’s here?” you demand and Glimmer shifts, uneasiness written across her body.

“Yes,” she falters, her mouth falling into a straight line. “Adora, you can’t reason with her. She tried to hurt you.” 

You ignore the warning in Glimmer’s eyes and poke your head around the corner. At first you can’t tell who it is from the dark cloak covering their body, but then their hood falls back to reveal Catra’s face. You know what you have to do. You step out into the hallway, Glimmer and Bow shouting for you to come back, but you ignore them.

Your pulse is hard and heavy against your ribs. Catra freezes once she sees you, and then her posture grows loose, relaxed.

"Hey, Adora," she says, her gaze lingering on your skin.

“You need to stop this, Catra.”

Her laughter is almost on the verge of insanity. “I won't let you win. I’d rather see the whole world end than let that happen.”

You take a step closer to her and she points her wand at you. “Don’t come any closer,” she growls, her hand trembling. You ignore her warning, and she bites her lip. “I swear, Adora, I’ll use the killing curse.” 

You shake your head. “No you won’t.” Catra takes one shaky step and then another, until she’s backed up against the wall and you reach your hand out to touch her cheek. Her breath hitches as you lean in close, pressing your front to hers. “I know you're better than that.”

That’s when she gives in, melts against you with a whimper and grabs you by the back of your neck to pull you in for a searing kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue, burning fire through your veins. She’s not gentle in the slightest, nipping at your lips and drawing blood, but you give back just as hard as you get.

You break away from her, watching her eyes zero in on your lips. “Was it hard being away from me?” you ask softly.

She swallows once, her throat bobbing. “Yes.”

You decide to push your luck, tracing your thumb over her bottom lip. “Did you miss me?”

“ _So much,”_ she breathes, leaning against your touch. 

Catra watches as you step away from her, longing in her eyes. You draw your wand and she freezes, shock settling into the lines of her body.

“I’m sorry.” You hesitate, regret washing over you in waves.

“You should be,” she snaps, but her voice shakes, betraying her. 

Her eyes sharpen and when she reaches for her wand, you shout, “Incarcerous!” 

Thick ropes wrap around her arms and chest, binding her so she can’t move, and she falls onto the ground. 

“Let me go, Adora!” Catra hisses, struggling to free herself. 

You look to where Glimmer and Bow are hiding. “It’s okay for you to come out now!” you call over your shoulder. “She can’t hurt you.”

They peer out from behind the wall and step out once they see you, Catra tied up at your feet. 

“Let’s go!” Bow jerks his head towards the exit. “The explosions definitely set off the security system.”

The guilt that’s eating away at you freezes you in place and you’re torn between letting Catra go and leaving her for the Ministry to deal with. 

Glimmer places a hand on your shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do for her now, Adora.”

You’ll never forget her screams as you leave her behind.

  
  



	7. year 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> I didn't know if I would be able to finish this on time, but I finally managed to post this the day before season 5 came out. This story was somewhat frustrating to write at times, but I had fun with it anyways. Thank you to all the readers who were patient with me through this and I hope all of you are staying safe!
> 
> Warning: Blood, temporary death, gore.

If the break in doesn’t force the Minister to acknowledge Horde Prime has returned, the attack on Gringotts certainly does.

It’s nothing short of a massacre; blood painting the floors, bodies everywhere. Everyone knows Gringotts has the most complex security in the wizarding world so when the public finds out that not only have multiple vaults been emptied, but the assailant has gotten away, panic spreads like wildfire. The papers all claim a man with green eyes and long white hair was seen leaving the scene with a woman, one eye blue and the other yellow, at his side. 

The description fits Catra perfectly, but you still can’t wrap your mind around how she could have escaped the Ministry. She couldn’t have gotten out of those ropes unless someone helped her out of them and Horde Prime doesn’t seem like the type to rescue his subordinates. 

She should be in Azkaban, not walking free. 

You lay low during the summer and try not to drag too much attention to yourself. The Ministry hasn’t pointed any fingers at you yet and you intend to keep it that way. It’s probably because they’re too busy scrambling to clean up the mess Horde Prime made. 

Adam writes often, mostly about all the dragons he’s raised, specifically a young Hungarian Horntail he’s grown fond of despite how many times it’s nearly taken off his fingers. In one of his letters, he jokingly says if anyone could pull off breaking into the Ministry it’d be you. He doesn't know how right he is.

There’s something that’s still wracking your mind, something Glimmer told you after the break in,  _ A prophecy like that isn’t something your parents wouldn’t have known about.  _ Back then you had brushed it off, but now you have a growing suspicion your family is keeping secrets from you.

When the visions first started and you had told your parents, there had been a subtle shift in their faces, something like fear, but then it had disappeared as soon as you had blinked. Whenever you bring it up to them, it seems like they quickly change the subject and avoid the topic entirely. You had always thought it was because they hadn’t liked talking about it.

You learn the truth a month before you go back to school. 

When you bring it up at dinner, it doesn’t go well. As soon as you mention the prophecy, your father pauses mid-chew, his eyes flicking to yours. 

“What prophecy?” he asks carefully, cutting off another piece of his steak. Your mother stares at you, her posture rigid and her expression wary. That’s your first sign something’s off.

You push around the food on your plate and glance at the empty seat beside your father, wishing Adam were there to support you. “ _ The second child born in the first month of the year rises to defeat Horde Prime. _ ” The words are practically ingrained in your memory now. “That doesn’t sound familiar at all?”

A bead of sweat rolls down the side of your father’s temple, disappearing into his dark beard. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, rolling his shoulders back.

The lie is painfully obvious and you grit your teeth, a sharp remark on the tip of your tongue, but your mother cuts in before you can say anything.

“Randy," her voice is surprisingly firm despite how her face has paled, "she knows.”

Surprise cuts across your father’s face. “Marlena―”

“We can’t hide it from her forever.” She tucks a lock of red hair, dulled over time, behind her ear, her soft brown eyes finding yours. “I should have told you earlier.”

A heavy feeling settles deep in your stomach, low and aching. “Told me what?”

Your mother reaches across the table to grasp your hand. Her touch, once comforting, fills you with dread. “We knew about the prophecy. We never told you because we wanted to keep you safe.” Her eyes shine wet with tears as she chokes on her next words, “I didn’t want to believe it was true.”

You yank your hand away, standing up so fast your chair nearly tips over. The room is spinning―your ears are ringing and you feel like you’re going to be sick.

“So you lied to me my whole life,” you laugh, but it’s sharp with an edge, “just so you could pretend it wasn’t real?” 

“It was a prophecy!” your mother cries, her lower lip wobbling. “Some fairy tale a Seer spun into words!” 

“‘Some fairy tale?’” You fight back the stinging at the back of your eyes as you watch tears roll down her face. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

The sight of your mother crying, eyes red rimmed and puffy, gets to be too much and you back away from the table, the food on your plate untouched.

Your father has the nerve to call out after you as you storm up the stairs, “Adora! Where are you going?”

“Somewhere where I won’t have to look at you,” you snap and try to ignore the hurt that flashes across his face as soon as the words leave your mouth.

The door slams shut behind you and you collapse onto your bed, sliding underneath the covers, desperately trying to hold back tears. The pillow you hold over your head doesn’t shut out your mother’s sobbing from the room below. The crickets chirping and the lights from the stars do nothing to calm the anger and hurt and sadness stinging inside your chest. 

The guilt written all over their faces, how easily your father lied to you, it makes you want to scream, break something, cry. Instead you throw open your window and gulp down lungfuls of cold air. Shivers roll through you and you have to knot your fingers in your shirt to keep them from trembling. 

Your chest feels tight, your heart racing uncontrollably against your sternum, your lungs straining for air. Minutes pass and then your breathing slows, the tightness in your chest loosening. Swift Wind coos softly at you from within his cage, his bright yellow eyes standing out stark in the darkness. His presence should be comforting, but you’ve never felt more alone.

Several weeks pass before you finally talk to your parents again.

You make sure they know you still haven’t forgiven them. They try to win over your trust, telling you everything they know about the prophecy, their faces etched with worry. A part of you knows they’ve always cared about you, even if it meant keeping a dark secret hidden from you, but you’ll never look at them the same way again.

Your last year at Hogwarts is spent studying night after night for your N.E.W.T.s. Glimmer studies with you and she doesn’t let you slack for one minute. All the times you show up late to class ends up paying off and you score an Outstanding in all of your exams.

Sometimes when you watch the Quidditch matches you’re reminded of the feeling of the wind flowing through your hair and the exhilaration of catching the Snitch. Then the memory of a sharp smile and soft mismatched eyes forces you to push down the thought of her.

On Sunday, you visit the Owlery to pick up the letters your parents send you. As you’re about to leave, a screech stops you in your tracks. 

A tawny owl you don’t recognize, a few feathers missing from its head, flies onto an empty roost near you, holding an envelope between its beak with your name on the front. When you finally open it in private, you don’t recognize the handwriting either.

The letter warns you about Horde Prime. He’s assembling an army for an attack on Hogwarts soon. His followers who went into hiding after his death are back, thirsty for blood and the cleansing of Mudbloods.

You’re still struggling to piece together how you fit into all of this. Horde Prime wants you dead, and you can only guess it has to do with what the vision told you, that you’re the sword’s master. You still don’t even know how to get the damn thing to move mountains for you. 

Bow tried to use it and it dropped like dead weight in his hands, falling to the ground. It burned through Glimmer’s gloves when she tried. The sword is magically enchanted to be wielded by you and only you. Somehow, it can tell the difference between your touch and someone else’s. It gives you some hope that Horde Prime can’t use it, but fills you with dread knowing he’ll do anything to rip it from your hands.

After McGonagall reads the letter she places Hogwarts on lockdown, raising its magical defenses, and alerts the Ministry. They send Aurors to patrol the grounds, but they do little to make you feel safe.

You have a feeling the worst is yet to come.

///

The attack happens a month before graduation.

You’re sitting on your bed with Glimmer, laughing at her impression of her mother and talking about childhood stories, when a familiar tickle at the back of your mind forces you to stop mid-sentence. You hear Glimmer ask you something, her eyes wide with concern, but her voice is distant, far away. 

Darkness creeps into the corners of your vision and swallows you whole until you’re standing in an empty hallway. Footsteps echo down the hall and you whip around to see Horde Prime walking towards you with his hands clasped behind his back. He stops a few feet away from you, eyeing you with contempt.

“I know you have the sword, Adora,” he says, inspecting the nails of one hand. “If you give it to me,” his green eyes flash with something unreadable, “Hogwarts will be spared.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Never.”

He scowls, anger breaking through his calm facade. Then his image blurs, and Catra stands in his place, a small smile on her face. 

“Hello, Adora,” she says, voice soft and gentle and so unlike her. Everything about her is wrong wrong wrong. 

You swallow hard, backing away from her until you’re up against the wall. 

She’s so close your breaths tickle the hair falling across her forehead and then she surges forward, crushing her lips against yours.

At first you try to push her away, but then she interlaces her fingers with yours, holding your hands tight. It’s hungry and unbridled, filling your whole body with warmth, but it feels wrong. You shiver when she draws the hint of her teeth against your lip, a familiar gesture that burns deep in your stomach.

Catra breaks away from you, her pupils blown wide and her face flushed. 

“If I had known you would submit this easily,” she leans in close and your stomach clenches at the way she looks at you, eyes darkening, “I never would have left.”

Her words snap you back into reality and you push her away from you, hard. 

“You’re not Catra.” You feel the grip on your mind loosen a fraction. “You’re not her.”

A short bark of laughter tumbles from her mouth. “Isn’t this what you wanted?" The voice that comes out of her mouth is hers, but sounds like Horde Prime's. "A reality where she was kind to you.” She raises an eyebrow, tilting her head. “Where she never hated you.”

You exhale slowly before answering, “I’d rather she hate me than spend another minute with you.”

Her upper lip curls, fangs dangerously sharp, before she lunges at you with a snarl. You take a deep breath, pushing Horde Prime out of your mind, squeezing your eyes shut. When you open them, you’re staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom. 

_ Consider this a warning, _ he says, his gravelly voice echoing through your mind and raising goosebumps on your skin.  _ Give me Adora Grayskull and your lives shall be spared. You have until the sun sets before I unleash my army upon Hogwarts. _

_He's sending a message to everyone,_ you realize. _He wants them to turn on me._

You hear a rustling of bed sheets and then Glimmer's at your side, eyes wide and a frantic expression on her face.

Glimmer grabs you by the shoulders. “We need to get you out of here.” She shoves the sword into your hands. “They’ll be coming for you if everyone else heard him too.”

As if on cue, someone bangs on your door. “Open up, Adora! We know you’re in there!”

Glimmer curses before pushing you into the closet. “Don’t come out no matter what you hear,” she orders before slamming the door shut in your face.

The blue light from the sword’s stone shines bright in the dark, outlining the clothes you're pressed up against. You hold your breath as the voices outside your room grow louder.

“Where is she?” 

“Oh, you know Adora,” Glimmer laughs nervously. “She’s probably wandering around in the kitchens.”

“Don’t play dumb,” another voice pipes in. “She’s hiding here somewhere.”

Someone shuffles outside the closet, moving around the clutter Glimmer’s pushed in front of the door. You brace yourself, holding the sword out in front of you, its magic thrumming loudly in your ears.

Then Glimmer gasps. “Wait! What’s that behind you?”

“If you think I’m falling for that, you must be―”

You hear the sound of dead weight crashing to the floor, followed by another loud thud. The closet door swings open and you brace yourself, holding the sword out in a defensive stance, but Glimmer’s standing there, two Slytherins laying frozen on the floor behind her. A petrifying spell, no doubt.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” Glimmer grins, then sobers up at the look on your face, clearing her throat. “Come on, let’s go!”

As soon as you step out of your room, you find there’s no need to sneak past anyone. 

The entire common room is in shambles, the tables flipped over, papers scattered across the floor. It looks as if everyone left in a hurry. Or someone was looking for something.

The halls are no better, the various portraits cower in their frames, students run past you without so much as a second glance. Horde Prime’s army seems to have arrived earlier than he promised. 

You find Bow amidst all the chaos, his robes gray with ash. He clutches his side with one hand, wincing with every step he takes. 

“Bow!” Glimmer immediately rushes towards him, throwing his arm around her shoulder for support. “What happened?”

“It was one of Horde Prime’s men. One of the Aurors saved me.” He hisses when Glimmer prods the wound at his side and she mumbles a quick “sorry” in return. His eyes flit towards yours. "What do we do?"

You take a moment to really look around you.

Students are screaming in fear, some are crying, others are too badly injured to fight back. Even the Aurors are having trouble keeping Horde Prime’s army at bay. Some lie dead on the floor. 

_ This is all your fault. _

“I have to find Horde Prime.” You grip the sword tightly. “It’s me he wants.”

Glimmer whirls around, eyes wide. “Adora, you can’t.” 

“I have to do this alone,” you say before moving down the hall, ignoring her pleas for you to come back. 

Something within you pulls you towards the courtyard and you get the feeling Horde Prime is waiting for you there.

A meow halts you in your tracks. The tabby cat from Hogsmeade pads towards you, her emerald eyes shining brightly in the shadows.

“What’re you doing here?” You gently nudge her away when she rubs up against your leg. “You need to go. It’s not safe.”

She lets out another persistent meow and darts in front of you, blocking your path. 

“Not right now.” Her tail swishes in irritation behind her and she narrows her eyes. “I need to―”

It happens so fast you almost miss it. The cat twists shape, limbs elongating, body bending until the person standing in front of you is Catra. You blink once, twice, but she’s still standing there, her face bare as if she’s showing you the whole truth. Everything makes sense now, all the sneaking around, the excuses.

She lets out a grunt as you tackle her to the ground. Your chin smashes into Catra’s bottom lip and her elbow digs into the space between your ribs on the way down. You drag her to her feet and shove her against the wall, pinning her with your forearm against her neck. 

“Adora,” she starts, voice shaking as you draw the sword towards her, “wait―”

“For what?” you demand, the tip of the sword digging into her neck. “You’re just going to run away again.” A bead of blood rises from where the blade presses into her skin and true fear flashes in her eyes.

“I sent you that letter!” she blurts, voice desperate, and your grip on her loosens. “I want to help you.”

_ I could have used your help a long time ago, _ you want to say, but instead, you send her an icy glare.

“I don’t need your help.” At that, she flinches, shrinking away from you. 

You don’t know what it is, pity or your deep rooted love for her that makes you let her go. Your heart can’t bear the thought of hurting her. She watches you with wide eyes as you turn away from her. 

“Get out of here,” you mumble, a sudden sadness bleeding into your chest. “The Aurors will kill you if they find you here.”

She’s quiet from behind you, unmoving, and you whirl around. “Get out!” Your face is wet with tears and you really wish she wasn’t here to see you cry.

She stumbles backwards, a haunted look on her face, before she slinks into the shadows out of sight.

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves and move back towards where you were headed.

The courtyard is completely empty when you walk into it, other than the rubble littered across the ground. It doesn’t make sense. Something brought you here, a deep nauseating feeling you feel whenever Horde Prime is near.

One moment you’re standing there, the next you’re on your knees, your body frozen in place. You watch helplessly as one by one, your fingers peel off the sword and it clatters to the ground. You can’t move a muscle in your body. Your mind is out of your control now. 

Horde Prime appears in front of you, seemingly out of thin air, and his green eyes flash with hunger when they land on the sword.

Something commands you to stay frozen in place and it terrifies you how willing you are to do just that. You want to do whatever that inner voice tells you to do even if your mind screams no. You should have expected the Imperius curse.

“Finally,” Horde Prime whispers, cradling the sword in his hands. 

The sword doesn’t harm him when he touches it and your stomach sinks when you realize he can somehow use it now. You notice a dark figure out of the corner of your eye and suddenly Catra is moving into your field of vision, her face devoid of any emotion. She stands at Horde Prime’s side, her eyes not quite meeting yours. 

You should never have let her go.

Your tongue works in your mouth, trying to form words, but the curse won’t let you speak. You fight against it tooth and nail and you feel the grip on your mind loosen a fraction. The fingers of your arm twitch slightly.

“Such a shame that your friends won’t be here to watch you die."

Horde Prime swings the sword down towards your neck and you will your body to move, fighting against the curse with everything you have until you feel the hold on your mind disappear. You roll out of the way just in time for the blade to imbed itself into the dirt where your head was. He laughs as you throw a spell at him, the sword deflecting it easily.

“You were a mistake, nothing more of a nuisance that I could not have foreseen,” he says, stalking towards you while twirling the sword in his hand. “You use a power you can’t even begin to understand.”

His swings come dangerously close until one finally catches on your cheek, burning fire in its wake. He takes a moment while you’re distracted to deliver a sharp kick to your ribs and you cry out as you feel more than hear them crack. Your wand falls out of your hand into the dirt several feet away. 

“Did you think she actually cared?” Horde Prime laughs and turns back towards Catra. “Tell her.” 

You glance up at her through the blood in your eye but her face is impassive, uncaring. Cold. 

Her voice is flat when she says, “I never cared about you, Adora.”

Hearing her say it finally crushes your heart, snaps it in two like the fragile thing it is, and you bite back the sob that tries to force its way out of your throat. A cold determination pushes you to crawl towards your wand, a small flare of hope still burning within you.

Just as your fingers brush against your wand, Horde Prime crushes it beneath his heel, the wood splintering into small pieces. Your last line of defense is well and truly gone. The sword cuts into your leg and you shout, holding back tears at the pain.

“I should have known when I bound myself to the sword it would have bound me to you as well.” Horde Prime grins, an almost insane look in his eyes. “When I kill you, there will be no one to stop me from using its full power.” 

He lets out a snarl when a white light strikes his face, staggering backwards, clutching his cheek. Black blood streams from between his fingers as his eyes find Catra, who’s taken up a defensive stance, her wand pointed towards him. He flicks his wand and a blue light soars towards her, causing the column beside her to explode into pieces. The force of the explosion slams her into the wall and she crumples to the ground. 

“Catra!” You struggle to get up, your whole body trembling. 

Horde Prime makes his way towards where she’s on her hands and knees, blood streaming down her face.

“I should have known you’d betray me for her.” He stares into her eyes and you can tell just what he’s about to do, “Let’s see what secrets you’ve been hiding from me.”

Catra flinches away from him, her mouth twisted into a grimace as he searches her thoughts. Once he’s found what he’s looking for he grins, the deep cut on his cheek stretching wide open.

“Your mother hid you well. I had no idea she had a daughter.” He sighs and traces the gnarled wood of his wand with one finger. “She died this same way.” Horde Prime smiles at the anger burning bright on Catra’s face. “How does it feel knowing you served her murderer?”

Catra’s only answer is to spit in his face, blood dribbling down her chin.

Horde Prime swipes his fingers across his cheek, inspecting the red on them before his eyes narrow. “I was going to kill you, but I think I’d like to see you suffer instead.” 

“No!” you shout just as he raises the sword, but it’s too late.

“Crucio!” 

The silence is broken by her blood curdling screams, her eyes rolling back into her head and the veins standing out of her neck. Her back bends off the ground, her limbs twisting at an unnatural angle. Every painful exhale she makes, every strangled cry, drives an imaginary nail into your chest. You need to do something, anything. Instead you’re watching Horde Prime torture her. 

Your eyes land on Catra’s wand, laying a few feet in front of you, probably knocked away in the explosion. You find the strength to crawl to her wand, grasping it between your fingers. You’re not sure if it’ll work for you, every wand is different and tailored to its owner, but its magic hums underneath your touch, calling to you. 

You grit your teeth and stagger to your feet, sending an expelliarmus charm flying towards Horde Prime. It knocks the sword out of his hand and Catra sags against the ground with a pitiful whimper. 

You limp to where he’s laying on the ground, the gash in your thigh seeping through your jeans. You kick his wand away from him with your good leg, staggering for a moment at the pain that shoots through the one you’re using for balance. The spell is on the tip of your tongue, the one that would kill him and end it all. The Unforgivable Curse. 

“Do it, Adora,” he says, his lips twisting into a cruel smile. “You know the spell.”

You should, but you know it’s not right, and you could never stoop as low as him.

“No.” You lower your wand. “I won’t do it.” 

“Then you’ll die from your foolish mistake,” he growls. 

His wand flies into his hand. You faintly hear Catra scream your name, see her raise her hand towards you, hear the words _Avada Kedavra_ leave Horde Prime’s mouth. 

You embrace death unafraid and wonder if this is how Mara felt in her last moments.

Everything fades away and you feel no pain, the fatigue from moments earlier gone. A bright light blares across your vision and when you blink, you’re in an endless room with no exit. The song of a lone bird echoes through the air before falling silent. The white walls and floors fill you with a sense of calm. There’s no sound apart from your soft breathing and the faint pulsing at the base of your skull.

“Adora,” a familiar voice calls, soothing you in a way you can’t explain.

A girl not much older than yourself stands across from you. A yellow light outlines her body that makes her glow, her posture relaxed, loose. You recognize her from your vision. You had seen her reflection in a puddle of her own blood, her regal face bruised and broken. She looks so different now, brimming with life, skin unblemished.

“Mara.” Tears well up in your eyes and the sob in your throat chokes you. “I’m so sorry. I failed you.” You hang your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “I failed everyone.”

A warm hand touches your shoulder and suddenly she’s in front of you, soft gray eyes gazing into yours. “You didn’t fail, Adora,” she says, voice gentle. “There’s still hope yet.”

“Aren’t we dead?”

She shakes her head. “My time is over, but yours is not.” Determination settles across her features. “You have a life to live.”

Panic stabs through your heart. “I have to go back. Is Catra―” 

“I’m not like Razz. I can’t see the future.” She grabs your hand in hers, her skin surprisingly warm. Her eyes shine bright as she smiles. “What you have with her is precious. Don’t ever let it go.” 

“What are you saying?” you ask, your voice weak.

A sad smile curves her lips as she seems to reminisce on something. “True love is hard to find.”

“I’m not―I don’t―” You want to say it but find that you can’t.  _ It’s because it’s not true,  _ the voice in the back of your mind whispers. 

“Don’t worry, Adora.” Mara sends you a knowing smile. “You will understand. You just have to  _ wake up. _ ”

You don’t know if the words jolt you awake or bring you back to life, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. You gasp, burning air rushing into your lungs and your heart beating fast in your ears. You’re lying on your back, the stars standing stark in the night sky. It feels like you’ve been holding your breath for hours and your fingers tingle as blood rushes back into your limbs. Your muscles twitch in protest as you sit up, feeling the dirt shifting beneath your fingers.

Horde Prime’s back is turned towards you as he makes his way over to Catra, the tip of the sword dragging against the ground. She leans heavily against the wall behind her, barely standing upright.

“Love is always so fickle, yet it is one’s greatest weakness.” He cackles, raising the sword above his head. “Don’t worry. You’ll soon be joining her.”

“You’re wrong,” Catra rasps, lifting her head weakly to look him in the eyes. “Love doesn’t make you weak.” Your heart flutters at her next words. “I loved Adora and it made me stronger than you ever were.”

He snarls, ready to cut her down where she stands, before you shout, “Leave her alone!” 

Horde Prime whirls around, eyes wide. “No, it can’t be.” Catra looks just as surprised as he is before relief smooths out her expression. 

“It’s time to end this.” You grip Catra’s wand tightly in your hand. “Just you and me.”

“Just you and me?” He ponders over it for a moment before a wicked grin crosses his face. “I like the sound of that.” Only when he turns towards Catra do you suddenly realize what he’s about to do.

You watch in horror as he runs her through with the sword as easily as someone would stab through butter. Her face is morphed into shock as she lets out a ragged breath, gripping the sword where it's impaled her, her own blood coating her hands. She slides off the blade with a sickening squelch, falling to the ground with a thud.

An anger you’ve never felt before surges through your veins and you don’t think before sending a spell towards Horde Prime. Your spell cuts into his shoulder, but he’s unfazed as he makes his way towards you with a murderous look in his eyes. 

Then he freezes, a sharp cry tumbling from his lips. Smoke curls up from where his hand is grasped around the handle of the sword. He uses the hand that’s not holding onto the sword to try to rip his fingers off, a strange humming emanating through the air. Only then do you notice Catra’s blood seeping into the grooves of the sword as if it’s absorbing it.

A purple light shines throughout it, creeps up the hilt and onto Horde Prime’s arm. His mouth opens in a soundless scream, green eyes wide in fear. You don't know whether to be confused or relieved that the sword is finally turning on him. 

The humming grows louder until there’s a loud crack and the light nearly whites out your vision. You squint through the light to see Horde Prime engulfed completely in white flame before crumbling into ash.

The grey cinder that was once Horde Prime disappears into the wind, the sword laying in pieces on the ground. 

_ When true love reveals itself, only then shall he fall. _

The fatigue in your swaying legs is forgotten as you run towards Catra, falling to your knees and ignoring the sting of gravel through your jeans. Your heart plummets when you notice the large wound that runs through the front of her stomach to her back. The sword narrowly missed her spine, but she’s losing too much blood. 

She smiles weakly up at you, blood staining her teeth, her breaths shaky and uneven. Bright red blood bubbles past her lips to trickle down her chin. 

“No, no, no,” you chant, frantically tearing off your sweater. “Stay with me, Catra.” The gray sweater you press to her abdomen soaks through with blood within a minute. Panic blurs your thoughts together and you don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to do.

She lays her hand over the one you’re clutching the sweater with. “It’s going to be okay, Adora.”

You shake your head, tears blurring your vision. “I told you to stay away.”

A wet cough rises from her chest as she lifts a shaky hand to cup your face, her thumb brushing away your tears while smearing blood across your skin. A lump forms in your throat, big enough to choke you and too large to swallow. She’s dying in your arms, yet she’s so calm.

“I thought you were supposed to be the brave one,” she mumbles, eyelids fluttering. She’s slipping away, barely holding onto consciousness. Her eyes flicker down to the blood slowly pooling around her. “It won’t be long now.” 

You grasp the hand that’s cupping your cheek. Her skin is cold to the touch.

“Please don’t leave me,” you beg, choking on a sob. You wish this was just another one of your nightmares, one you’ll wake up from where nothing ever went wrong. “Not like this.”

Her chest struggles to rise with every breath she takes. “I’m so sorry. For everything that I did.” Her eyes are clouded, like she’s not really there. “For hurting you.”

“Don’t say that.” You squeeze the hand on your cheek. “This isn’t goodbye.” 

“I mean it, you know,” she whispers, tears streaming down her face. “I love you, Adora.”

She tugs on the collar of your shirt, pulling you forward until your lips meet hers. The kiss is gentle, a barely-there brush of her mouth against yours. You can taste the salt of your tears and the faint tang of blood on her lips. Her heartbeat is faint underneath your fingers. 

She breaks away from you, tracing her eyes over your face as if she’s committing the image to memory, as if she’s looking at you for the last time. The mere thought of losing her makes your chest ache painfully.

The sound of voices in the distance drags your attention away from her and your hope sparks to life at the sight of lights not too far away. They must be searching for survivors. 

“Periculum!” you shout, pointing Catra’s wand up towards the sky. 

A ball of red sparks flies up into the air and the lights shift, moving towards you at a quicker pace. There’s still a chance they can save her.

“It’s okay, Catra. We’ll get you help.” You turn back towards her, but she’s watching the sun setting on the horizon, tears rolling down her cheeks.

She doesn’t sound like herself at all when she says, “I’m so tired, Adora.”

Fear coils itself around your heart, a snake squeezing the air from your lungs. 

You call her name and she only seems to hear you the third time, her mismatched eyes tearing themselves away from the skyline to look at you. 

A small smile curls the corner of her mouth and then her eyes slide shut. She lets out one last breath against your lips, her hand losing its grip on your shirt before falling limp at her side. The cold silence that follows is broken only by the gentle breeze of the wind. 

You don’t hear yourself screaming until you feel hands grab you by the shoulders and drag you away from her lifeless body. 

///

You spend days and days in your room, the shock of it all settling deep within your soul. 

Glimmer visits you every day, a hesitant knock signalling her entrance, bringing food to your bedside and telling you about everything she’s learned in class or how much Bow misses you. The nightmares steal your voice and you don’t speak, only listening to the sharp laughter of a bird outside your window and remembering a crooked smile. 

Everyday you watch the sun set, lighting the sky on fire and your heart with it.

When you scream yourself awake, images of Catra’s body and her blood everywhere, Glimmer’s always there to comfort you, rocking you back and forth gently in her arms. The loss of losing her leaves a mark on your heart you don’t think will ever heal. 

It’s a struggle to get up in the morning, to put on your clothes and get ready. Sometimes you see her blood on your hands and you scrub them raw to get it off. When it gets to be too much, the fear stealing the breath from your lungs and blurring your thoughts, Glimmer takes the brush from your trembling fingers and untangles the knots in your hair from your neglect. 

You ask Glimmer to cut your hair the day you find your voice again. She sits you in front of the mirror in your room, pulling your blond hair gently out of its usual ponytail. Your reflection portrays a completely different girl from your first year. That girl was hopeful, happy, naive.

The one stares back at you with empty eyes and an empty soul. Her features are gaunt, dark circles underneath her eyes from too many sleepless nights. A jagged scar runs along her cheek to just beneath her chin, the pink flesh causing your stomach to clench tightly at the memory of sharp steel and green eyes.

It’s hard to accept that Catra’s gone.

Sometimes you wake up from a nightmare, the scar on your face itching and burning, and catch your reflection across the room. The girl in the mirror has eyes of bright red, a twisted grin warping her face and red veins pulsing in her arms. You squeeze your eyes shut, listening to your heartbeat swishing in your ears, and when you open them, she’s gone, and you see your own familiar face.

When Glimmer’s done, your hair falls just above your shoulders. She tells you how beautiful you look and you allow yourself to believe it for a single second before the dark thoughts in your mind steal it away.

It’s hard at first, going to class with everyone staring at you. The pity and sorrow on their faces makes you sick to your stomach. Some are even afraid of you and you can’t blame them. You’re a murderer and someone died because of you. The only people you talk to are your friends and your brother. The letters your parents send you go unanswered and you don’t even bother opening them. 

Spring brings light rain and the new birds of the season. The gardens become the best place to clear your mind after rough days and tending the flowers you’ve planted puts your thoughts at ease. The small patch of soil you have is filled with red roses. Red, like the time you loved and were loved back. Red like the love no one else can bring back.

You grip one of the roses in your hand tightly, ignoring the sharp prick of thorns in your palm, and sob quietly. You see her smiling face swimming in front of you, the freckles dusting the bridge of her nose, the small white scar underneath her eyebrow. Everything you loved about her in front of your mind, locked away in your heart. 

“Hey, Adora.”

It’s Catra’s voice, rough and lilting, but you know it’s not real and you’re just imagining things. The line between your dreams and reality is so thin you can’t tell them apart anymore.

“Adora,” the voice says again, taunting you.

You let out a shaky breath, a chill running down your spine.

A hand touches your shoulder and rage flares red hot inside your chest. You turn around to give the person a piece of your mind, scare them off just like all the others, but your heart stops at the sight.

Her hair is longer, curling at her shoulders. Her eyes are the same as you remember, blue and yellow fires burning with life. She’s dressed in a loose shirt, the edge of a bandage peeking out from underneath the collar, her right arm in a sling. 

You reach out and extend your hand, expecting for her to disappear, to grasp nothing but air, but then your fingers brush against her skin, warm and soft underneath your touch, and you can breathe again.

She pulls you into her arms, her scent flooding your nose. Her chest rises and falls with every breath, her heartbeat pounding underneath your ear. She’s real.

“I thought―” you choke on the words, “I thought you were―that you were―”

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, stroking a hand through your hair. “I’m here.”

You pull away to look her in the eyes. “How?”

“It’ll take a lot more than a creepy old fart to kill me.” She smiles, the edge of a canine poking over her bottom lip and rolls her eyes at the flat look you send her. “I’m kidding. The healers at St. Mungo’s patched me up.”

You reach forward to trace the pad of your thumb underneath her eye. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you breathe, holding her face in your hands just to feel the familiar cut of her cheekbones. 

Before she can reply, you close the distance between you so that your lips meet hers, kissing her with a reserved gentleness. She hums, her mouth moving against yours slowly, like she’s savoring it. 

When the kiss ends, she flashes you a rare smile, one that you remember from your fourth year. She traces her thumb across the back of your hand, suddenly looking shy and skittish. “I know I don’t deserve it,” she says quietly, “but will you give me another chance?”

“Do you even have to ask?” You smile, pressing your forehead against hers. “I love you, Catra and I’d give you a thousand more chances if it meant I got to see you again.”

Her lower lip wobbles and then she’s tilting her head up so her mouth catches on yours, her fingers digging into the back of your neck. You break away from her once you hear a small sob, a barely there hiccup in her chest. She’s crying, her eyes watering, and you feel tears running down your face to match hers.

“Did you figure out what you’re going to do after all this?” she asks, sniffing and wiping her face.

It’s so out of the blue that you laugh in what feels like the first time in ages. It’s a good feeling, something happy and warm that burns inside of your chest. She joins in and you had nearly forgotten what her laughter sounded like.

“I think I’m going to become an Auror,” you finally say after your laughter dies down.

“Of course,” Catra snorts. “Only you would want to spend the rest of your life fighting dark wizards after one almost killed you.”

You roll your eyes and shove her lightly. “Oh yeah? What’s your plan?”

She shrugs her shoulders and grins. “I’m thinking of traveling around for a bit, seeing the world.” She eyes you carefully and says, “But it wouldn’t be the same without you.” 

“Since when did you get so sappy?” you tease, raising an eyebrow. She looks offended, ready to turn away, but then you slide your hand into hers, tracing your thumb across hers and her expression is curious, guarded. “I want to come with you, Catra.”

Catra beams, bright and radiating, and there’s this feeling you get when you see her smile, a love you can’t explain, eternal and deep.

You don't ever want to let it go.


End file.
